


can you hold me?

by IronPengu, parkrstark



Series: SuperCrazyFamily [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Beating, Begging, Burns, Choking, Cigarettes used for pain?, Conversations about Death, Dissociation, Drowning, Eating Disorders, Fever, Gen, Hallucinations, Humiliation, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Infection, Kidnapping, M/M, Muzzles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker has ADHD, Recovery, Rescue, Sleep Deprivation, Smoking, Stabbing, Steve being forced to hurt peter, Stitches, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts, Superfamily, Threats of Violence, Torture, Unconsciousness, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Waterboarding, Whipping, Whump, briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 75,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22208251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IronPengu/pseuds/IronPengu, https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkrstark/pseuds/parkrstark
Summary: If Steve had known what was going to happen that day, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning.No-- if he had known, he would have gotten out of bed to drag Peter in with them and never let him go. He would have kept him safe.But he didn’t know and that's why it all went wrong.
Relationships: Harry Osborn & Tony Stark, Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Steve Rogers, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: SuperCrazyFamily [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1249157
Comments: 195
Kudos: 672





	1. day one, part one

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the long awaited Steve and Peter Peter kidnapping fic I've been teasing on my Instagram! I started writing this over a year ago with IronPengu based on an RP plot we did. All Steve dialogue is credited to her! 
> 
> This fic will be split into two parts: The Kidnapping and The Recovery. 
> 
> There will be a lot of intense whump in this one, so if that makes you uncomfortable then I would suggest sitting this fic out. Each chapter will have some warnings if you'd rather just skip a chapter, but keep in mind that this all revolves around the whump that happens to these two. 
> 
> Sorry if this first part seems to drag a bit; I had to set up and explain some things we have in our rp universe. (Harry and Peter are together in this one, but he doesn't know Peter is Spider-Man. The other fics in this series aren't necessary to read but will help you understand.)

Steve didn’t have any sort of Spidey sense like Peter did. So he had no idea of knowing that today was going to be only the start of the worst days of his life. 

The world tricked him because it started like any other morning...perfect. Tony was tucked in his arms against his chest, curled in a tight ball. Steve woke up and held him closer, rubbing soft circles on his back as he laid there for a few moments, just to hold onto this moment longer.

But no matter how much longer he stayed, it wasn’t enough. 

If Steve had known what was going to happen that day, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed that morning. 

No-- if he had known, he would have gotten out of bed to drag Peter in with them and never let him go. He would have kept him safe. 

But he didn’t know and that's why it all went wrong.

He began his day like any other day. Blissfully happy.

“Hey, love, I gotta get up,” Steve whispered before pressing a kiss to his husband’s temple. 

Tony groaned under his breath, pulling himself closer into Steve’s arms. “No.” 

“Yes,” Steve said with a smile on his face. “You’re good at keeping me in bed, but I gotta go. Dodger is getting chubby.” 

“So warm,” Tony whispered, not moving even a bit. 

“Trust me, I know.” Steve could already feel the January chill in the air and he wasn’t even out from underneath the blankets yet. “But I’ll be home soon and then you’ll have me to yourself all day long.” 

Tony hummed happily with a smile but still didn't move. 

“Okay, okay,” Steve laughed. “I’m getting up now, love.” Tony didn’t let go, but he didn’t fight Steve as he slowly pulled him off of himself and crawled out of his arms. “You’re like an octopus.” 

Tony finally opened his eyes and looked up at him with a small pout. Steve had to look away before he crawled right back into bed with him. Lazy mornings with Tony were always the best. Dodger helped him get going when he noticed Steve sitting up and realized today they were going on a run. He jumped up immediately and started jumping around Steve’s feet. 

Steve laughed, leaning down to scratch behind his ear. “Okay, boy. We’re going. Go get your booties and then we’ll head out.” Steve picked up one of his sneakers that was by the bed and Dodger went running out of the room, knowing what he had to do. 

As he waited for Dodger to return, he went around the room, getting dressed and ready for his run, making sure to put on a soft pair of sweatpants and a thermal long sleeve to keep himself warm. He was lacing his sneakers when Dodger came running back into the room with his four booties in his mouth. He dropped them by Steve’s feet with a bark. 

Steve shushed him softly as he picked up the booties. “You gotta be quiet, pal. House is still sleeping.” 

Dodger didn’t show any sign of understanding him as he jumped up on his lap. He didn’t bark this time though as he excitedly started to lick Steve’s face. Steve laughed as he pet his back, getting Dodger to settle on his lap. Once he was calmer, Steve pulled the mini socks onto his feet. 

He spoke to him quietly as he did, “Gotta keep my pal nice and warm.”

Once his paws were covered, he jumped down and jumped in a small circle. The way he got excited about literally _everything_ reminded Steve of Peter. It made him smile. 

Steve turned back to where Tony was laying in bed, watching him with half-lidded eyes. “Alright, babydoll, I’m heading out now. Gimme a kiss before I leave,” he said, leaning forward so Tony didn’t have to move too much. 

“Happily,” Tony answered before pressing his lips to his. Even with their combined morning breath, Steve smiled against Tony's lips.

As much as Steve didn’t want to, he pulled away. “I gotta go,” he said again, this time trying to convince himself.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled, giving his hand a soft squeeze before standing up.

“Be safe,” Tony said to him as he walked to the door. 

“Always am,” Steve assured him before walking out the doorway. 

He and Dodger walked down the hall and stopped just outside of Peter’s bedroom. He turned down to Dodger and said, “Remember: quiet voice. Pete is sleeping and so is Tess. No getting him riled up.” 

Despite it being a few days since going on their usual morning runs, Dodger remembered the drill and he quieted down as Steve opened the door with a finger to his lips. It was still dark outside, so the only light coming from the room was the small glow from his glow-in-the-dark star sticks on the ceiling. 

Just barely, he could see the small lump under the blankets and once he got closer, he could easily see the tuft of curls sticking out of the blankets. Steve smiled, sitting on the mattress next to him. He pulled down the blankets slightly to see Peter’s face squished against the pillow and his arms wrapped securely around Tessa as she hid her face in his neck. 

Tessa was the best idea Tony and he had ever had for Peter’s birthday. The two were the world’s biggest cuddle monsters and together, it was almost impossible to separate them. Tessa could be a very needy pup when she wanted to be and Peter needed someone there to snuggle up with to fall asleep, so they fit each other perfectly. 

He didn’t want to wake him up just to say goodbye before school, but Peter usually did anyway. And Steve liked to see him sleepy-- it was the only time Peter was actually still and calm.

Steve leaned down and kissed Peter’s forehead, pulling away. He knew if he left now, Peter would sleep until his alarm woke him up, but he wanted to see his eyes open before his run, even for just a moment. He ran a hand though Peter’s unruly curls and just like Steve knew he would, Peter blinked his eyes open, giving him the smallest of smiles. 

“I’m going out for a run, bud. Wanted to come and say hi in case I don’t see you before you head out to school.” 

“Don’t forget to bundle up,” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping. 

Steve laughed quietly. “Yeah, I’ll be warm. Don’t worry, _Dad.”_ His boys always worried too much about him being warm enough. His mom was definitely proud of them for mother henning him like she used to.

“You get cold easily,” Peter said and then grinned. “Wanna lay down and cuddle? Tessa and I can keep you warm.”

Steve ruffled his hair. “You're as bad as your dad, you know that?” 

“Sure do.”

“Then you also know if I get into that cozy bed with you, bear, there’s no way either of us are getting up and I don’t want to be the reason you miss your Marine Bio class today.”

“Oh, yeah! Sharks!” Peter’s eyes brightened immediately at the mention of his favorite class. Apparently, Peter finally convinced his teacher to do a lesson on sharks. Even though Peter would probably be the one raising his hand and teaching the class. So much for not getting him all riled up. Steve laughed. “Yeah, bud, sharks. You gotta go so you can come home and teach me everything you learn.”

As if he didn't already give him a new fact about something every day. Peter's mind was overflowing with information and Steve genuinely loved learning things. Especially things that Peter got excited about because the excitement he had when rambling about sharks or space or Han Solo was absolutely contagious.

“Of course! You’re gonna be a shark expert by the time we’re done.” Peter started to sit up, but Steve pulled the blanket back around him. 

“Oh, of course, I’m learning from you. But, you’ve still got at least a half hour before you need to start getting ready for school, so you get a little more sleep, bud. Dad’s not even up yet.” 

Peter debated it and Steve hoped he wasn’t too awake to get some more shut-eye. In the end, Peter decided to pull Tessa closer and curl up against the pillow again. 

“Smart move. Now I’m gonna go before Dodger has a fit.” 

“Have fun! I’ll see you after school!” Peter smiled up at him. 

“Sure will. And you and Harry better bring those donuts you promised.” 

“If we don’t eat them all first maybe,” Peter teased, his smile turning into his little-shit grin. 

Steve held a hand to his heart. “You wound your old man. You know I need my food.”

“Trust me, I know.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes with no heat behind it or his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peter just smiled innocently up at him. If Steve weren’t trying to keep him somewhat asleep, Steve would have tickled that kid mercilessly until his screeching woke Tony up in the next room. 

“Means I love you!” 

“Mhmm,” Steve said, "Sure you do.”

“I do, Pops! Swear on Gushers!” 

Steve glanced over his shoulder where the little fish was swimming happily in his bowl, unaware of what was going on out here. “Should I believe him, Gushers?” 

“He says yes!” Peter said, dragging Steve’s attention back to him. 

“I’m sure he does. Well, in that case, I love you too, bud.” He leaned over to press a kiss to his forehead before standing up. Seeing the movement, Dodger got excited once again by his feet. Steve followed his lead to the doorway.

“Don’t forget to zip up!” Peter called out to him as he left the room and shut the door behind him. Steve rolled his eyes at him. He really was just as bad as Tony. Sure, it was a little cold in New York during January, but he was warmed up enough in his layers. Running also kept him warm enough that he barely felt the chill. 

So, after grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar, he was stepping out of the tower with a smile on his face and an over-excited dog by his feet. “Alright, pal. I know you’re excited. Let’s go.”

They ran down the city blocks to their favorite park. Barely anyone ever ran on this trail, even when it wasn’t this early, so Steve and Dodger never had to worry about hiding from paparazzi during their morning runs. Not that Didger cares about cameras flashing during his run. But Steve did. He hated seeing himself on the front page of a paper taken from a morning run. He didn't know what was so interesting about running that warranted a front page, but apparently Steve Rogers couldn't even work out without being watched. 

He knew that feeling. He knew when there were people waiting in the bushes to ambush him for pictures and autographs. He didn't need a spidey sense for that 

So as alone as they looked to be, Steve knew there was something wrong. There was someone there with them. Even Dodger looked to be tense as he ran beside him. The soldier in him was alert: ready to attack and defend-- ready to fight. 

“Dodger, pal, hold on,” he whispered, pulling the leash close to him. Dodger obeyed but still stood tense, growling lowly. “You feel it too? Somethi--.”

Steve never had the chance to finish his sentence before he was tackled to the ground. The wind was knocked from his lungs as he was slammed into the ground, his face scraping against the rocky path. He wasn’t even given a chance to see who was straddling his waist before he was being punched repeatedly. 

He grunted, taking the hits just long enough to analyze his pattern. His punches were consistent and all Steve had to do was wait for the right time to punch him back. Steve got him right in his sternum and the man collapsed, coughing as he grabbed at his chest. Steve started to push himself up as he heard Dodger barking aggressively behind him. He stopped mid bark with a sudden cry and Steve whirled around to see what happened. 

Dodger was laying on the ground with a large man was standing above Dodger, smirking down at him. 

Steve’s blood turned cold. “You fucking bas--.” 

He was cut off, once again, before he could finish scolding the man for kicking Dodger. There was something sharp in his neck, a quick pinch and then the world started to get blurry. He turned around to stare at the man he had punched a moment earlier. He was laughing at him, holding a needle up in his hand. 

Of course, they drugged him; that didn't surprise him. What surprised him was the fact it was strong enough to affect him, especially so quickly.

“Wh't’d y'give me?” He asked, although with his slurred words, it was barely understandable. How did they have something that knocked him, Captain America, on his ass so quickly? It scared him. If they had that, what else did they have?

“Don’t worry about that. Come on.” The man put an arm around him, leading him off the path. Steve didn’t stop fighting him the entire way, struggling to keep himself on his feet. He could just barely hear Dodger barking and whining somewhere close by even though it sounded like his ears were stuffed with cotton. 

He kept pushing against the hands on him until something was smashed against the back of his head, making his world black.

\--

Tony wasn’t a morning person. Especially without his coffee, he was dead on his feet. But every morning on weekdays, he was up way earlier than he'd like to be. Of course, it was worth it to him. 

He didn’t _need_ to be awake because Peter was old enough to get himself ready for school, but he liked to do it. He liked seeing Peter before he left and making him breakfast and packing a lunch before he left. He liked being the exact opposite of his father. 

It was the same routine every morning.

Tony left his room, Sonno lounging on his shoulders while Bree trotted next to his feet. He stopped by Peter’s room and stuck his head inside to see if he was awake. Despite not actually being related to Tony, he definitely took after him in not being a morning person. 

He walked inside and over to Peter’s bed where he was still sleeping. He shook his shoulder gently and ran a hand through his hair. His eyes fluttered open not long after and Tony knew if he woke up this easily, Steve must have woken him up first when he went off on his run. 

“Mornin’ dad,” he mumbled with a smile. 

“Good morning, kiddie.” Tony found himself smiling back, unable to not smile when Peter did. “You ready for school?”

I'd rather stay in bed," he answered honestly, letting his eyes shut again. 

Tony nodded his head. “I know, but you have to go to school. If you're still this tired when you get home, you can take a nap. But first breakfast and school. So you get dressed while I make you something.”

Peter’s eyes snapped open, as if Tony or Steve didn’t make him breakfast every day before school. Even if it was just a bowl of cereal, Peter always ate. He got his appetite from Steve (really from the spider-bite). They both had a crazy metabolism that only Tony's wallet could appease. 

“French toast?”

“If you get up now, I think you have time for French toast.” 

Neither Peter nor Tessa moved immediately and Bree jumped, resting her front paws on the bed as she barked at Tessa. Tessa let out a little whine and tucked herself closer to Peter. Tony laughed, petting Bree. “Don’t worry, Bree. Your bambina is getting up as soon as mine does. And I know he is getting up for food.”

Peter nodded and Tony smiled down at him. “FRIDAY will tell me if you go back to sleep and if you’re still in bed by the time Pops comes back, he’s gonna lift you up and drag you to school. In your pajamas." 

“I’m getting up,” Peter whined back. “Harry awaits.” 

Tony’s smile softened and said, “I’m sure he does.” School had been tough for Peter when he was alone. School bullies seemed to think he was the best target to terrorize in class and that made it hard for not only Peter to go to school but also for Tony and Steve to send him to school. 

But when he became friends with Harry, they never had to worry about the football team bothering Peter. Harry was his own personal bodyguard, whether he realized it or not. And Harry's hockey team had only known Peter for a few weeks, seeing him every day after school at their team practices, and they already considered him not only a friend but a teammate too. 

Between Harry and his Marine Biology class, Peter didn't mind going to school for a change. He actually _enjoyed_ it. 

Tony gave Peter a kiss on the top of his head and another ruffle of his curls before he was taking Bree and heading out. Bree never liked leaving Tessa still asleep, taking on the roll of the Mom to Peter’s pup. 

“She’ll be out soon, Bree. Don’t worry. She’s going to eat.” Tony assured her, wanting to roll his eyes at how overbearing a dog could be, but Steve had pointed out time and time again that Bree was a mom to Tessa just as much as Tony was to Peter. And he really couldn’t disagree with that. 

Once they reached the kitchen, Tony stopped by the counter so Sonno could leap off his shoulders and land gracefully on the countertop. She slowly strutted over to her food bowl against the wall and started in on her breakfast. She didn’t like to touch the tiled floor of the kitchen and Tony was not going to deny the Queen her needs. 

Bree sat by the three dog food bowls, one already empty because Dodger had eaten his meal before going on the run. Bree wasn’t going to touch her food until Tessa was out and eating. Tony started to make Peter’s breakfast so by the time he was dressed and out here, it was finished. 

It only took a few minutes and by the time Tony was dishing the bread onto a plate, Peter was walking into the kitchen with Tessa at his feet. Tessa went to the food bowls and Bree barked a few times, nudging Tessa’s bowl with her nose. Tessa happily started eating and then Bree joined. 

Peter smiled down at them before taking a seat at the kitchen bar where Tony put the plate of food. While Peter started to eat his breakfast, Tony put together his lunch and snacks. As he packed it, he told him, “I’ve got your lunch, a few snacks for class, and a mini-lunch for you and Harry during practice.” 

Over a mouthful of syrup and French toast, Peter said, “Mmmm, thank you!” 

“No problem, bambino,” Tony said, getting ready to pack his food in his backpack while Peter started on his second serving. 

After a few minutes, Tony had to stop him as he continued to eat before he was late to school. “Alright, kiddo. Time to go.” Peter took one last bite before hopping off the chair and running to give Tony a hug and kiss goodbye. “You sure you don’t want me to drive you?” 

“I’m fine!” Peter laughed. “I like walking to school. Especially since I just cleared up space on my camera.”

Before he could run to the elevator, Tony called to him, “No stopping to take pictures, Peter!”

“I won’t!”

“Peter, you’re almost late. No pictures and no Spider-Manning.” 

“I don’t even have my suit on me!” 

Tony had noticed that since he met Harry, not only did he enjoy school more, but he wasn’t as obsessed with being Spider-Man 24/7. He still patrolled and trained to hopefully one day help out more (despite Tony and Steve wanting to keep as far from danger as possible), but he let himself be a kid. 

“But I know you’ve got your camera in there.” 

“Because I need to take pictures!”

Tony shook his head, knowing Peter was going to stop to take pictures of whatever caught his eye. Even something as boring as a pigeon on a fence. Well it was boring until Peter took a photograph with the perfect angle, seeing something photo worthy no one else saw at first. 

Tony couldn't stop him from it, so he might as well let him go instead of arguing with him about it. He'd have the camera half full by the end of the day anyway. “Fine. But please go straight to school. Harry will tell me if you’re not in class on time.”

“I will! Promise! Love you!” He called before he was in the elevator with the doors shutting behind him. 

Tony shook his head fondly before turning back to the kitchen to start cleaning up and making himself a cup of coffee. Some days he went right back to bed to drag Steve back in once he was home, but today he didn’t. He could use the time Peter was at school to work on stuff for Stark Industries or work in his lab. When Steve got home, maybe he'd pull him to the couch for cuddles. 

By the time Tony was done cleaning the kitchen and finished his coffee, Steve still wasn’t back from his run. Tony figured he was probably running a few extra miles today since Tony had kept him in bed for the past few days. So, he took another cup of coffee and headed down to the lab. 

He worked through a few dozen emails and business calls before FRIDAY interrupted him. _“Sir, you have an incoming call from Midtown School.”_

Tony froze, worry already taking over. Was Peter okay? The last time the school called, they were calling Tony and Steve down to a meeting because Peter and Harry had gotten in trouble for fighting-- defending themselves against bullies. Were they giving them trouble again? 

“Answer the call, FRI,” Tony said, putting his StarkPad down to give the school his full attention. 

“Hello, this is the attendance office from Midtown High. Is this one of Peter’s guardians?”

“His dad, Tony Rogers-Stark.”

“Peter hasn’t been marked in school yet. Is he home sick today?”

Tony frowned. “Home sick...no, I sent him-- he left this morning.” He checked the watch on his wrist. That was over an hour ago.

“So, I should mark him down for a cut then?” 

Tony blinked. “What-- no, he’s not cutting. Can you tell me if Harry Osborn is in class?” If Harry wasn’t in class then maybe the two of them tried sneaking out for the first few classes. Even though he _knew_ it was unlikely because Peter didn’t do that and Harry wouldn't be allowed to play on the team if he was caught cutting class. And they just weren’t those kids. He trusted them. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but that information is only allowed to be given to a child’s guardian.”

Tony groaned in frustration, but he also understood and knew if someone random person called up for Peter’s information, they wouldn’t be allowed to know. And that was a big worry with Peter being the son of Captain America and Iron Man. “Okay, hold on-- let me text him.” He got up and went over to his desk where his cell phone had been sitting next to his now empty coffee mug. He lifted it up, ready to unlock it and text Harry, but he stopped when he saw there was already a notification from Harry. He texted in the group chat the four of them were in. 

**Harry:** _hey, pete wasnt answering and didnt meet me before class. home sick?_

There was another only a half hour later. 

**Harry:** _still no response from any of you. hope maybe u all just overslept?_

10 minutes later. 

**Harry:** _u guys r worrying me please call me back_

Tony was more than worried now. He was terrified. Peter was missing-- he never made it to school. “He’s missing!” He shouted.

“--Excuse me?”  
“My son,” Tony said, running to the elevator. Maybe Steve had gotten home and was in the shower. He _needed_ him. “He’s missing.”

“Sir, I assure you he’s probably just trying to skip out on school.” She paused. “Just last year, he was marked as cutting from a few classes.”

That angered Tony. This woman was acting as if she knew his son better than he did. “No. He wouldn’t. You don’t understand.”

“Mr. Sta--.”

“Mr. _Rogers-_ Stark,” he corrected as he rushed into the elevator, practically stabbing the close doors button to get up to the main floor. 

“Mr. Rogers-Stark,” she said again, sounding almost irritated. “Your son isn’t the only one to try and cut. Go check to see if he’s sleeping. Or maybe he’s hiding at one of his favorite spots.”

“He’s not hiding! He’s supposed to be in school!” Tony ran a hand through his hair. “You know what-- whatever. Mark him as cut, I don’t give a shit about his school record until I find him.”

“If you believe your son ran away, I suggest calling the authorities.” 

“He didn't-- nevermind.” Tony waved his hand at the ceiling, signalling FRIDAY to hang up the phone. 

His chest was tight and he was having a hard time breathing, but he couldn't let himself freak out yet. His baby was missing. Something was wrong. He didn't just skip or disappear or run away. Sure, he got distracted on the way to school sometimes but never this long. And he always picked up his phone. 

“FRIDAY, did Steve come home yet?” 

_“Not yet, sir.”_

“Force a call through on Peter’s phone.” 

He waited a moment as the elevator stopped and he got out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do next, but he had to think. 

_“His phone cannot be reached.”_

Tony narrowed his eyes up at the ceiling. “Can't be reached? He has a StarkPhone. I don't care where he is. I want to know.”

_“I'm not getting any location.”_

“What about his bracelet-- trace it and check his vitals,” Tony ordered, pacing around the living room. 

_“I cannot get a read on his bracelet.”_

Tony stopped dead in his tracks. “What? That's-- his bracelet should _always_ be readable. As long as it's on his wrist.” 

They each had one: Peter had a bracelet, Steve had a necklace, and Tony had a watch. They gave them all access to each other’s vitals and location in case of an emergency. They were always on and accessible. Unless one of them took it off or they were dead...

Tony shook that thought away. Peter being anything other than alive and breathing wasn’t an option. And Tony would have gotten the alert either way if Peter tried tampering with it. And he wouldn't. Tony knew Peter wouldn't. He wasn't hiding anything or trying to run away. He wasn't upset. He was happy. Everything was okay. 

“FRIDAY, call Steve. He's probably listening to music, patch me through.” 

_“I cannot get a hold of his phone either, sir.”_

Whatever worry Tony had moments ago doubled. “What does that mean?” 

_“His phone and necklace are unreachable. Just like Peter’s.”_

“They're gone--,” Tony gasped, running a hand through his hair. “They're gone. Everyone's gone. Call-- call…” 

Who could he call? His son was missing and the person that usually calmed him down-- his husband-- was gone too.

No one could understand what he was going through. No one except…

“FRI, call Harry.” 

He knew he shouldn't be encouraging him to be on his phone in class. He always told Steve to stop texting Peter during school hours. But Harry was already worried and while this could only make his worrying worse, he deserved to know. 

Harry answered on the third ring, his voice sounding echoed and out of breath. “Thank God you're okay. I was getting worried about you guys.” 

“Harry, Peter didn't talk to you today?” 

The relief in Harry’s voice was short lived. “No...why? Isn't he home sick? With you?” 

“No. He left for school on time. He was supposed to be there.” 

“He's not picking up.”

“I know and neither is--.” 

_“Sir, Dodger is out front.”_

Tony’s head snapped up. “Steve’s here?” 

_“Dodger is out front alone, sir. Steve is not with him.”_

Tony’s blood went cold as he spoke to Harry, “I'm coming to pick you up. _Do not_ leave that school without me.” 

Harry knew he was serious. “Yeah, sure. I'll just go to the nurse with a note saying I can leave early. Forging my dad’s signature is no problem.” 

“I'll be right there. Stay safe until I get there.”

“Of course. I'll be fine. Don't worry. Call me when you get here.” Harry sounded like he was trying to keep Tony calm as he struggled to stay calm himself. 

They were both a mess. 

The phone call ended and Tony took a steadying breath. He didn't have time to have a breakdown. His son and husband were missing. And it was up to him to find them.


	2. day one, part two

The next time Steve was awake and aware again, he was being slapped. Hard.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Nice of you to pick me up,” Steve retorted with a wince, still feeling the leftover drugs in his system. So he was kidnapped. Fun. “You know an invitation would have sufficed.”

“Something tells me you would have RSVP’d with a no,” the man said.

“Although it would have been very politely,” Steve replied while he inspected what he could see as he stared down. Dirty cement floor. Chains around his wrists.

“Well, there’s no party without you, so you can see why we used a little force to get you here.” 

Steve lifted his head to look up at whoever had him captured. He was smiling down at him with his hands shoved in his pockets. There was nothing off about him. Nothing screamed ‘crazy’. He looked normal. But the worst ones always did. 

“Thanks. How... _ thoughtful _ . And certainly inconvenient.”

The man sighed, shaking his head. “You see, that really isn’t our problem.” 

Steve jerked on the chains slightly, trying his best to stay calm. This asshole wanted to see him freak out. But Steve had been through this before; he wasn't going to let any weakness show. “Well, obviously! You’re not the one whose morning was rudely interrupted.” 

The man paused, staring down at him, almost as if he was studying him. Then he spoke, “And you’re not the only one either...so I guess your problem will be shared. If that makes you feel any better.”

Steve froze, attempting to figure out what the hell that meant. “Not the only one?” Steve's eyes widened when he remembered who was with him on the run when the shit all hit the fan. “What, you took my fucking dog? What the fuck does he have anything to do with this bullshit?”

The man tilted his head. “Your dog...well, I guess if you want to call him that, I can’t disagree.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He smiled, showing off pearly white teeth. Between his smile, his dirty blond locks, and his charm, he seemed perfect. But it was the perfect ones that were always the most cracked underneath all that beauty. “Do you really want to know?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Steve snapped, already done with this guy's games. How long had it been? Only 5 minutes concious? This had to be a record. 

The man turned to the open door behind him. “Bring him in, boys!”

Steve racked his brain to think who they were about to bring in. He couldn't help his curiosity, “...who?”

The man turned back to grin at Steve. “The guest of honor has arrived,” he announced in a sing song voice, taking a step to the side. Steve watched the doorway waiting to see who was the other unlucky chump being dragged into this mess. 

But what he saw he wasn't ready for. 

He'd  _ never _ be ready for it. 

Two men that looked to be just as wide as they were tall came in, dragging someone between them. The person had their head down, but Steve still knew exactly who it was.

He had ruffled that mop of curls plenty of times to know it was  _ his son _ being dragged into the room, struggling against the men holding him.

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. “No-- What the fuck is this? No!”

Peter’s head shot up as he shouted in surprise, “Pops!”

The man ignored Peter, answering Steve’s question. “It’s exactly what you it looks like. Your son, right?”

Steve felt sick. This couldn’t be happening. He’d been kidnapped before plenty of times. This wasn’t anything new. But  _ Peter? _ Peter was a child. He didn’t deserve whatever the hell was in store for them. “No-- God, please no...why the  _ fuck  _ do you have him?! Let him go  _ now!” _

Steve jerked on the chains and even the two men holding Peter flinched back at the sound of his booming voice, but the other man just smiled. “Sorry no can do. In fact, those chains right next to yours are his. He’s not going anywhere.” 

The chains on his wrists must have somehow been reinforced because they were strong enough to hold him back. Even if he was still slightly weaker from whatever drug they injected into him, it was still holding him no problem. “You fucking bastard! What the fuck do you want?” Steve was angry-- no, he was  _ furious  _ now. He wasn't paying this prick's games anymore. 

The man shrugged his shoulders. “Your husband is a very rich man. I may have some requests...and us having his family, well, I’m sure you know where this is going.” 

Ransom. “Unfortunately.” 

Steve’s confirmation only made the man happier and he clapped his hands together. “Good! Then this will be much more easier.” He paused to turn back to where Peter was still struggling against the men holding him. “We’ll explain everything once the little one is chained up...he’s a bit of a spitfire, huh?”

Peter continued to fight them as they dragged him over. Peter could have fought back harder and beat these three assholes in a second if he tried, but Steve hoped he didn’t. They didn’t know what these men had or were capable of. They already had enough to subdue Captain America. He didn’t want to see what they could do to Spider-Man. Peter was safer if they thought he was just a kid.

As they chained his wrists, Steve tried to check over his body to see if they hurt him. He couldn’t tell. He turned back to face the man and glared fiercely at him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Peter straighten up and copy him. 

The man stared down at the two of them with a gleeful smile. “We knew the key to breaking Stark is his family. It’s no secret he’s married to Captain America. Easy decision on snatching you, but not as easy to keep you. We’re not stupid. Despite my sister’s hard work, if you really wanted to and tried hard enough, I’m sure you could maybe escape. Possibly. So, we had to ensure a way you’d stay compliciet with everything we said.” The man’s gaze slowly went from Steve to Peter as he continued speaking to Steve, “That’s why your boy is here. He’s leverage to make sure you cooperate. I know you would never risk his health and safety to do something reckless.” 

Steve would do anything to keep the attention on him and away from Peter. “What do you want from me?” 

The man laughed as if anything Steve said was a joke. “So quick to give us what we want, huh? No more snappy comments?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Let’s see where it goes.” 

The man leaned down, closer to Steve. “I think right now all I want from you is to see you squirm. But give us some time and I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” 

“Of course.” Of course they had requests. Of course they wanted to take advantage of him like this. Of course they weren’t in a hurry. Of fucking course. 

The man didn’t move from his spot. Instead, he only turned his head to face Peter. “But you know, this one…  _ he _ was the hard one to find. You and Stark barely let the paparazzi get a picture of yourselves, let alone your son. Didn’t even know how to find him until this.” 

The man pulled something out of his pocket and it only took a second for Steve to recognize it. It was a polaroid. The one Peter had taken of them during their summer vacation in Italy. It was his favorite picture of the three of them: they were on a beach and Peter took the picture as if it were a selfie, so he was smiling widely up at it, slightly off-centered. Tony was behind him reading his book and Steve was laying on a towel face-down, asleep with a bright red sunburnt back. 

Peter had left it on Maria’s grave last month when they visited her on the anniversary of her passing. 

Of course, Peter was furious to see it in his hand. He took his pictures very seriously. Especially that one. “Hey! That wasn’t yours to take!”

The man was quick to spit back, “You’re the one that left it. You left it in a public place where everyone could see it.” 

Peter jerked against his own chains, yelling, “You had no right to touch it! Give it back!” 

The man paused. Then his entire face changed and he smiled. “Fine. I mean, I am a nice guy, afterall." Steve had to hold back a scoff at that comment. “And in the end, we found you. Don’t need this picture anymore.” He threw the picture to the ground and it fluttered through the air, landing at his feet. 

Peter immediately crawled over and went to grab it. Because he was such a nice guy, the man quickly lifted his foot and stomped down on Peter’s hand before he could move it away. Peter gasped in pain and Steve wished he could punch this asshole  _ now. _ “Hey!”

Nice Guy, as he proclaimed himself, grinned over at him, keeping his foot in place. “Hello to you too.”

Steve growled. “Knock. It. Off.” 

Nice Guy quirked an eyebrow. “Or what?”

Steve felt so helpless, unable to stop this asshole from hurting his son when he was right there. He just wanted to get the attention off Peter. “I dunno. Find out with someone your own size.” 

In response, Nice Guy only squished down harder. Peter flinched and held back a sound of pain. Then finally, he lifted his foot up and Peter scrambled back to Steve’s side immediately, clutching the picture to this chest. 

Steve wanted to pull Peter closer and make sure he was okay, but he kept his gaze on that man for now.

Nice Guy smirked down at Peter before straightening up and looking at Steve. “As tempting as that sounds, I’m gonna have to give you a no. I think we’ve more than covered today’s itinerary. Don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m exhausted. Food will be here soon and then get some rest. The real fun starts tomorrow.” 

The three of them didn’t say another word before they were leaving the room and Peter and Pops were alone. 

Immediately, Steve turned to Peter. He was thankful at least they were chained close enough together so Steve could see him close up and touch him. “Are you okay?”

Whatever tough exterior Peter had built up in front of them was gone now. “I’m sorry-- I’m sorry. I tried running.” 

Steve didn’t care. He needed to know. “Are you okay?”

Peter nodded his head with wide eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, clearly seeing the fright in those big brown eyes. Not that he expected the kid not to be scared. “You don’t have to be.” 

Peter paused. “Uh, little bit shaken up. But I’m fine. My hand,” he said, flexing the one that had been stepped on, “it’s okay.”

Steve looked down at it and while it looked like it would bruise, it was nowhere near the worst injury Peter had ever gotten. “Good…” He said as he started looking for chances to escape around the room. 

Their room was small with four white walls surrounding them. There wasn’t anything in the room except for them and their chains. There was a door in the back corner that Steve assumed was at least a bathroom, if they planned to keep them here longer than a few hours.

And something told Steve that once they had Captain America, they weren’t going to let him go so easily. 

Peter must have noticed what Steve was doing and said, “I didn’t see any exits when they dragged me in here. And I was in the back of a van-- I don’t know where they took us.” 

Steve studied the room closer. “We’ll make our own exits. Look for a flaw in the system. There doesn’t have to be an exit sign for you to get the hell out.”

Peter tugged on the chains around his wrist. “We’d have to get out of these chains first.” 

Steve turned to address him. “Not yet, kid. Think of it this way: you get out of the chains, then what? You’re scrambling for some way of escape and those guys come back in. And next time they won’t put you in the same chains.” 

Peter sighed. “But how do we find a way out? We can only move so far…”

Steve tapped his temple, just besides his left eye. “Look with your eyes.” 

Peter went quiet as the two of them started looking again. After a moment, Peter said, “I don’t see anything. Do you?”

Steve hated that he had to answer with a, “No.”

Peter was starting to get anxious. Steve knew he was just by the way he was already fidgeting with the chains. God, Steve just wanted to get him out of here. “How are we gonna get out? Do you think Dad knows we’re missing?”

“Hopefully. And-- I don’t know--  _ yet _ . I don’t know yet. Just...yet--we’ll be fine. We’ll get you out of here-- it’s okay.”

Peter frowned. “What about you? We’re gonna get you out of here too.”

Steve didn’t care about himself, truthfully. He only had one goal in mind and that was to get Peter out of here, safe. “Yeah. Us-- I meant us.”

“You’re getting out with me.”

As stubborn as Peter was, Steve didn’t have time to argue this. “Peter.”

Peter persisted, “I’m not going to leave without you.” 

Steve knew there was a time to be stern. He was Peter’s father and what he said went. Now was one of those times. “Peter. You better promise me right now if there’s an opportunity for you to escape without me, you take it. Do you promise me?”

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Peter replied with, “No.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “Peter-- you promise me right now. And you mean it.”

Peter shook his head. “How do you expect me to make that promise? How could you ever ask me to agree?”

“You have to! Please. Promise me.” 

Peter’s voice softened, “Pops…”

Steve couldn’t let it go. Peter needed to be safe. “You have to-- my, God-- you have to, Peter.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “I just-- I can’t.”

“Peter…” Steve said, hoping he’d give in and just  _ promise.  _

“Pops, I can’t.”

“Peter-- stop. This isn’t a matter of ‘what if’. I’m telling you as your father to go without me. Please. Do as I say. I know it’s hard. I know you don’t want to. But you have to.” 

He didn’t respond right away, not that Steve expected him to. Peter could argue this all day long. But he gave in. “Fine...okay-- _ fine.  _ We’re just going in circles anyway.”

Steve had to make sure. “You haven’t promised.” 

Peter looked to be in actual pain when he said, “I--I promise.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief _. “Thank you.” _

Glaring down at his lap, Peter said, “I don’t want to.”

Steve gulped and asked, “...but you’re going to?”

Peter grumbled, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “I promised, didn’t I?”

“Just making sure.” 

Peter looked back up quickly. “I’m sorry-- I didn’t mean to-- I’m sorry.” 

Steve hesitantly put a hand on Peter’s arm. “It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I’ve never been kidnapped before,” Peter whispered, the attitude gone from his voice. 

“I would hope not,” Steve said.

Peter was quiet for a few moments until he said, “I wanna go home.” 

Steve would do anything to get him back there. “I do too...we’ll get home.” 

Peter scooted closer to him and Steve reassured him, “It’s gonna be alright.” 

Peter asked in a small voice, “How do you know?”

As young as Peter sounded right now, Steve knew he wasn’t a baby. He was terrified of being in this situation, sure, but Steve couldn’t hide anything from him. He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it. Peter deserved to know what they were dealing with. “I don’t know.”

“Not even Cap’s Intuition?”

Steve wasn’t going to lie, but he still had hope. He had to or else they never would get out. “Maybe.”

Before Peter could reply, Nice Guy walked back in with a tray. He leaned down and dropped it to the ground. On the tray were two plates and two cups. “Grub time, boys.” 

Steve didn’t move and neither did Peter. 

Nice Guy repeated himself, not sounding too nice, “I said food.” 

Steve noticed Peter wasn’t going to move if he didn’t, so he said, “Go get it, Pete.” 

“What-- both?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Okay…” Peter said as he slowly crawled over. He hesitated before reaching out for the tray and Steve was going to kill that man if he tried stomping on Peter’s hand again. He grabbed the tray and hurried back to Steve’s side. 

Nice Guy watched him and then advised them both, “Eat up.”

Steve didn’t move. “Will do.” 

“We’ll be back again tomorrow. Sleep well,” he said with a wink.

“Mhmm. Sweet dreams,” Steve said sarcastically. 

The sick enjoyment that had been on his face disappeared as he narrowed his eyes with a growl, “Watch it. I have a feeling you won’t like the consequences of talking back.” 

“Of course,” Steve replied shortly.

The smile was back on Nice Guy’s face. “Good boy,” he said before walking out. 

“Hey, Pete,” Steve whispered. “Don’t tell your dad about this part.” He held up a middle finger to the man’s back. 

Peter laughed and Steve smiled softly. He knew if they were here much longer, he wasn’t going to be hearing that sound often. “I’ll keep your secret.”

Steve ruffled his hair with a soft smile. “Good. Now eat.” 

Peter pushed a plate to Steve. “At least they gave us food.” 

Steve still didn’t move. “Mhmm.” 

Using the plastic fork they were given, Peter started pushing around the mush around the plate. “Doesn’t look too good…”

Steve couldn’t disagree there. “I know...but it’s food.” 

“What if it’s poisoned?”

Shaking his head, Steve assured him, “It won’t be. He needs us alive.” 

“Oh...yeah, you’re right,” Peter said but made no move to bring the fork to his mouth.

“Soon we’ll be home with Dad’s cooking.” 

“And your pancakes.” 

Steve wished he was home making Peter a stack of sprinkle pancakes. “Of course. But for now...this’ll have to do. So, eat up, Pete.” 

Peter paused playing with his food to look at him. “You eat too.” 

Steve lied, “I’m okay.” 

Peter narrowed his eyes and accused, “You’re always hungry.” 

“I’m fine, Peter. I’ll be okay.” 

Peter stared for a long moment before asking, “When was the last time you ate?” 

“This morning before I left,” Steve answered. He had that granola bar at least. 

“Here.” Peter pushed the other plate even closer to Steve. 

Steve wanted to give in, but he wasn’t going to. He couldn’t. Not when his son needed it more. “You eat it.” 

“Pops.”

“What?”

Peter scoffed. “I’m not eating your food.” 

Steve turned his voice hard so there was no room to argue. “Peter. You’re eating it.” 

Peter threw the fork to the plate. “First you want me to leave you here and now you want me to eat your food!” 

Steve took a calming breath. “...Peter, I’ve gone through this before just-- please trust me!” 

Ignoring him, Peter continued, “I know what you’re doing. You’re giving up everything so  _ I’m  _ safe.” 

Steve didn’t see anything wrong with that. He was the father and Peter was his kid. “And?” 

Peter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not letting you.”

“Peter, you’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be. I get it. You’re Spider-Man. You know what it’s like to be a hero. You’re selfless. Very admirable. But right now, you’re my son…” He paused as his voice cracked on the word,  _ son.  _ “And I need you safe.”

Peter sighed, his face scrunching up. “I know...but, I don’t like knowing you’re suffering because of me.” 

“I’m not suffering. It’s one night. I’ve survived worse, Peter. This isn’t my first rodeo.” And it really wasn’t. He’d been starved for days before. He could last longer than a few hours. 

Peter’s shoulders dropped. “O-Okay. You don’t want even a bite though?” 

“I’m alright…” Steve said, patting his shoulder.

Peter hesitated. “If you’re sure.” 

Nodding, Steve said, “I’m sure.”  _ Just eat the damn food, kid. _

Peter started eating slowly and after a few moments, he said, “So...if we don’t see a way out, what’s our plan?”

Steve looked around the room again, even though he knew he wasn't going to find anything new. Peter just wasn't someone who could sit and be patient. His ADHD always had him racing for something else to do. “We can think of one. I’ve got limited resources right now.” 

“Right now?” Peter repeated questioningly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, what are you waiting on?" Peter made a face as he swallowed a mouthful of mush. He didn't look to be enjoying it.

Steve looked at him, saying, “A chance.” 

“Hope we get one,” Peter mumbled.

“Me too.” 

Peter sighed in slight frustration. “Why can’t we just fight ‘em? They’ve gotta let us out of these chains sometimes. You’re you and I’m you know who.” 

Steve wasn’t sure where he was going with that, but he didn’t like it. “But they don’t know that.” 

“If I’m you know who, then you don’t have to worry about me.” 

Steve quirked his eyebrow at that because no matter who Peter was, Steve was always going to worry about him. “...yeah?”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just...use a little extra power?” 

“I’d rather you not,” Steve said matter of factly. 

Peter sighed. “I just don’t wanna be useless. I wanna help you. Help us.” 

“You will,” Steve insisted. He wasn’t sure how they were going to, but they were going to escape and he was going to need Peter’s help. 

Peter went back to his food, starting in on Steve’s plate. His mind already on the next thing to worry about. “What do you think he meant by fun starts tomorrow?” 

Images of not fun things flashed through his mind. He'd been kidnapped enough times to have a pretty good idea. “I know what he meant.” 

“What?”

Steve went quiet because how was he supposed to tell his son that he feared they would be...tortured-- only Steve, if he had any say in it. They’d hurt Peter over his dead body. 

Peter wasn’t a stupid kid. Steve’s silence was enough of an answer and he started to rub at his hand, the one Nice Guy stepped on. “Oh…” 

“I love you,” Steve told him, not wanting Peter to worry about what was in store for them. 

“I love you too,” Peter said softly.

“I know it’s not...home. And it’s not cuddled up with Tessa. But...you need to sleep.” Steve shifted, giving him more space. He didn't know what time it was. It could only be afternoon, but they had nothing better to do.

Peter gave him a small smile. “Home’s family...and I’ve got you. Besides, you’re just as good of a cuddler as Tessa is.” 

Steve shut his eyes. Peter was being so optimistic, looking on the bright side of everything in such a shitty situation. It hurt. Because he shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be chained to a wall in a small freezing room, needing to go to sleep worrying if he was going to be hurt tomorrow. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why’re you sorry?”

Steve looked away. “That I couldn’t prevent this.” 

“You didn’t know it was going to happen. How could you have prevented it? You were on a run. I was walking to school.”

There wasn’t an answer that made logical sense, but it still was his fault. He was his father and Peter was his kid. He was supposed to keep him safe. “I don’t-- I don’t know.” 

“You don’t have to feel guilty for this. I don’t blame you,” Peter said and Steve knew he wouldn’t. Just like Steve was doing, Peter would probably blame himself in some impossible way. 

“But I will for what might come…”

Peter tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Steve looked at Peter, catching his gaze and holding eye contact. “Tomorrow...I can’t-- guarantee what might happen. But this is a time for you to trust me. I know you won’t like the decisions I make, but in the end it’ll work out.”

Peter furrowed his brow. “What--?”

“Listen,” Steve said, “You know my goal is to keep you safe.” 

“Yes….” 

“I intend on doing that. And you’re going to have to trust me.” Before Peter could argue, he continued, “Please don’t play hero...I know you’ll want to. Unfortunately, I have a grasp of how this may play out. I’ve been captured before. As you know.” 

Peter glared at the ground. “Don’t remind me.” 

Steve stayed quiet. He didn't know what else to say. Torture was most likely what was going to happen, but he couldn’t tell his son that. He didn't care what he did on patrol. He was going to protect him as long as he could. This wasn't Spider-Man. This was Peter Parker.

Peter started to pull at the bracelet around his wrist anxiously. “They wouldn’t-- you could kick their butts. They know it.” 

Steve sighed. “Pete, they have the higher ground…”

Peter turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Why-- there’s no need to hurt you. You don’t have anything!”

Steve stayed calm; he needed to for Peter. “I have knowledge, I suppose. I don’t know what they want. But they do. And if they think that I can help them get it. Then they’re gonna utilize it.” 

“So, it’s more than just dad’s money…”

“Could be…”

Peter looked around the room, shivering a bit at the chill. “And they expect us just to fall asleep?”

“I don’t think they care what we do,” Steve said honestly. “But  _ I  _ expect you to. I know it’ll be hard, but you’ll need the rest.” 

“I don’t want to.” Peter pouted. 

“You’re not gonna want to do a lot of things right now.” 

“So why should I?” Peter mumbled.

Steve reeled back at that, slightly shocked by his words. “You did not--  _ really?” _

“I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to eat your food. I don’t want to leave without you.” 

“Yeah. I’m sure you don’t. But, guess what, kid?” He leaned down to meet Peter’s eyes as much as he didn’t look like he wanted to. “You gotta. You’re gonna need the energy. And leaving without me is the last resort option. But I need to know that if it boiled down to it, you’d take it.” 

“Only if I really had to.”

Steve nodded. “I know.”

Peter went quiet, looking like he was debating things over in his mind. Then finally, the stubbornness in him subsided and he whispered, “The sooner I go to sleep, the sooner I wake up...and then they’re back.”

“And better to be prepared for it rather than exhausted and weak, yeah?” Steve said, knowing Peter wanted to avoid it all. He wanted to not make him worry about any of this. But he was here, so Steve had to prepare him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Peter said, “I guess so.”

“Mhmm.”

Peter turned to eye him suspiciously. “What about you, though? You need food and sleep.”

“And like I said, you’re gonna need to trust me on this. I’m okay,” Steve reassured him.

“I don’t believe you,” Peter mumbled low enough that he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hear it. But he did. 

“You’re gonna have to,” Steve replied matter of factly. 

“You’re not okay if you starve,” Peter argued stubbornly.

“I’m not gonna starve.” Steve refrained from rolling his eyes.

“Your metabolism is just as bad as mine.”

Steve really didn’t want to continue this. Not when Peter could be using the time to sleep. “Peter. I’m not gonna starve.”

“I’m not any more important than you.”

Steve hesitated before he answered in a strong voice, “You’re my son. Of course, you are. Now try and get some sleep.”

“And you’re my Pops,” he grumbled. “You’re more important to me.” 

Steve ran a hand over his face. “My God-- we could go back and forth on this all day long. But you better start listening to me on this. Just-- trust me.” 

“I want you to be safe too.” 

Steve ignored him. “Get some sleep.”

Peter finally seemed to realize that arguing was getting them nowhere and he wasn’t going to win. He sighed and laid down with his back to Steve, using his arm as a pillow. He curled up into a small ball and went silent. 

Steve wished he had a blanket to give him. As it was, when they kidnapped them, they took their coats and other layers of warmth. Even their shoes and socks. They left Steve in his thermal running shirt and his running shorts. Peter was wearing his favorite Han Solo shirt and jeans. At least his legs would be warm. 

Steve had been through his fair share of kidnappings. Some lasted a few hours, some lasted a few days. Some he was alone, some there another member from the mission taken with him. Some he came out of it unscathed, some he needed to go straight to medbay. 

This time, Steve knew it was going to be worse than any other kidnapping he’d been through. And they haven’t even started yet. Because this time, Peter was with him.

\--

Tony hurried to Midtown High and met Harry in the main office. The second he saw him, he rushed over and wrapped his arms around him tightly. It was so good to see one of his boys safe. At least he wasn't alone in this. 

"Hey, it's okay," Harry whispered, rubbing his back. He was taller than Peter but still just an inch or two shorter than Tony. "We're gonna find them." 

Tony knew they would, but when? "I'm sorry for worrying you with all of this." 

Harry pulled back and the smile on his face wasn't reaching his eyes. "Don't apologize. They're my family too." 

Tony nodded his head and started to walk out of the office, Harry following close behind. He had his jacket and hat on already with his backpack on his back. "Hope you don't mind taking a trip and then holing up in the tower. I don't want you out of my sight until they're found." 

"Honestly, I doubt my dad will even know I'm missing." 

Tony cringed when he heard that. It was hard to believe because he had a son, a son currently missing, and of course, he noticed. He didn't know how a father couldn't. But then he remembered his own father and it made sense. "Well, I would. So you're not going out anywhere."

Their conversation came to an end there as they stepped outside into the chilly air. It was already biting at his face and Tony cursed himself mentally. It was too cold to let Steve go running and it was too cold to let Peter walk to school. If Tony had insisted Steve stayed in bed and if insisted on driving Peter to school, none of this would have happened. 

Once in Tony's Audi, he sped down the street, asking FRIDAY to pull up the last known location of Peter. He followed the GPS on his car screen to an alley a few blocks away from the tower. Both Harry and Tony got out of the car immediately and Tony made sure that the suit was ready to be called in an instant if necessary. Something told him that whoever had Steve and Peter didn't want him too though. 

They walked a little ways into the alley and Harry noticed it first. He ran forward to the backpack stashed behind the dumpster. It was Peter's. "He was here!" 

Tony hurried over and kneeled down. By the backpack, he saw his phone smashed into a half dozen pieces. He lifted a piece up in his hand and squeezed it tightly. 

Harry was looking through his backpack and said, "Doesn't look like anything different. Not notes. No clues. They just ditched his stuff and broke his phone." 

"Do you see his bracelet?" Tony asked, looking around the dirty ground. "FRIDAY says this was the last known location of that too. But I don't see it. There's no way they were able to shut it down. That's some of my best tech." 

Harry hesitated. "And what if they did?" 

"Then I have no way of tracking them." 

\--

Tracing Steve's last location led to the same results: broken phone and headphones thrown on some random trail in the park. His necklace went on for a few yards outside of the park but then disappeared once it hit the main street. 

Now back at the tower, Tony felt useless. That bracelet and necklace were supposed to stop something like this from happening. They were always supposed to know where the others were just in case. Tony couldn't even pull up their vitals.

The only thing that gave him some peace of mind was the fact that there was no vitals  _ and  _ no location. If there was a location with no vitals, then he had reason to worry. 

"So," Harry said as he sat down next to Tony in the lab. "What do we do now?" 

Tony was at a loss. There were no leads. No clues at all. "I-- I don't know…"

"Do you think we should call the police?" 

Tony had thought it over several times. Alerting the police meant more hands on deck, but it also meant publicizing the incident and Tony wasn't sure if that would benefit Steve and Peter. "What can they do that Iron Man can't?" 

"What about the other Avengers?" Another thing that Tony had thought about even more times. 

"War Machine is on a tour somewhere in the Middle East currently, Black Widow and Hawkeye are doing a mission in an unknown region, Thor is out of world currently, and who the hell knows where Bruce is." 

"So what can we do?" Harry asked, anxiety filling his voice. 

Tony knew how these things worked. He'd been kidnapped because of Howard enough times to know. "We have to wait for a call. They have to reach out to us and then...then we make a deal." 

Because fuck rules. Tony would negotiate with a dozen terrorists to get his boys back. 

  
  


\--

Eventually, Peter fell asleep. Steve wished he still had his jacket to give Peter as a pillow, as he watched him shiver occasionally. Probably part of the torture was to leave them in little layers as possible in the freezing room. The concrete floor was freezing cold and the air sent a chill to his bones. 

But Peter curled up in a tight ball and had his head pillowed in Steve's lap. He fell asleep by himself but Steve moved closer and fixed him when he was asleep. When he would let out a little shiver, Steve rubbed his arm until he calmed down again. 

He wasn't sure of the time, but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed at the tower next to Tony and sleep. Sleep sounded so good. But sleep was a luxury in captivity. Especially when his son was with him. 

He hoped that they would at least get a few hours of uninterrupted peace, but sooner than he would have liked, the door to their small room was opening. 

Steve expected that man again or one of the two brutes, but instead, he was surprised to see a woman walk into the room. She held herself differently than the man. Her shoulders were held high and there wasn't any horrifying amusement in her eyes. Well, not yet at least. 

She had long hair, pulled up in a high ponytail that still reached past her waist. The color was a blinding pink against the stark white walls of their room. 

Steve eyed her carefully, wishing he could have hidden Peter from her view. When she met Steve's eyes, she commented, “Still awake, are we?”

Steve didn't say a word and only stared at her with confusion. She was talking to him casually like they were friends when he hadn't ever seen her before. 

She walked over and kneeled down right in front of Steve. Her eyes didn't glance down at Peter, but Steve still curled an arm around him. “I should probably introduce myself, huh? Doubt my brother did. And you will be seeing a lot of me."

Steve didn't ask for her name. He didn't care. She wasn't his friend and he sure as hell didn't trust her.

Still, she gave it to him. "You can call me Missy. Everyone does. And by everyone, I mean my brother. No one else does matter though." Although her tone was light, those words carried so much more weight to it. 

"Brother? He must be the nice guy we spoke to." Steve kept as much sarcasm in his voice as possible. 

"His name is Felix. He really is a good guy once you get to know him." Steve could tell by her voice that those words were genuine. Still, Steve couldn’t believe it.

"Oh, I'm sure he is. All the great men kidnap children."

"Don't forget Captain America too."

Steve hummed, staring down at the ground so he didn't have to see those brown eyes peering into his. 

After a moment of tense silence, she asked, "Aren’t you even the least bit curious?” 

Steve didn't know what he was supposed to be curious about, but her humored her. "About?" 

She grinned and it was the first emotion to show on her face. “Curious as to how we were not only able to kidnap Captain America, but keep him here as well.” 

“I suppose.” Steve wasn't curious. He knew how they cheap shotted him by making Dodger cry and then they dragged his fucking son in. There was no question what was keeping him here. 

“Captain America isn’t as invincible as he wants the world to seem. Few days in a lab and I was able to create a drug strong enough to knock him out and those chains-- my own invention too. I’m sure you’ve tried to break them. Not working out, huh?” Talking of her own success seemed to trigger a spark of pride in her. She wasn't entertained by the pain she was causing, just the fact that she could. 

“Well, I’m still in them, aren’t I?" Steve snapped. "Think that speaks for itself.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Still a smart-ass, huh? I’m sure they’ll fix that soon enough.”

“Only time will tell," Steve replied as flippantly as he could. 

“Actually, that kid by your side tells me they’ll get you to behave.” 

Finally, her gaze drifted down to Peter and Steve went quiet. He had to learn to bite his tongue. He refused to let his own back talk get Peter hurt. 

She smirked smugly at his silence. “That’s what I thought. Knew it was a good idea to pick him up. Don’t think you’d cooperate without the push.” 

Peter was here because of him. He pulled him closer to himself. 

“It’s quite unfortunate you two had to be dragged into this...I only have a problem with your husband. You two just happen to be the key to getting back at him.”

“My husband? Getting back at him for what exactly? What’d he do?” Steve knew that was the answer, but he still wanted specifics. 

She scoffed. "He's Tony Stark. Do I have to really tell you?"

Steve clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth grate together. He hated how quick the public was to judge Tony when they didn't even know him. No one knew him like Peter and Steve did. 

"Those rich people-- they're all the same. He doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about that kid. He cares about one thing. His money." 

Steve couldn't help but laugh at that one. He knew for a damn fact that Tony would give up all of his money to keep Steve and Peter safe. 

This woman was the one that was wearing diamond earrings that Steve knew were real. He'd seen enough of them when ring shopping and designing to tell. Her outfit was nothing but designer as if she were going to some publicized party not a torture room. 

“So while we get what we need from Tony, we also get the plus of having Captain America too. I'd love to see how much of my work you can handle." 

Steve had only seen the beginning of her work: drug, cuffs, and whatever the fuck was shutting down their necklace and bracelet (because they were each still wearing theirs and if it was working like normal, Tony would have been here hours ago) and he didn't like any of it. It scared him a little bit. Her brain plus her brother's crazy did not equal anything good. 

“Oh, joy," Steve rolled his eyes, trying not to let her know how scared he actually was. He'd play lab rat all day as long as it meant they didn't  _ touch  _ Peter. "Never thought I’d have the opportunity to play lab rat  _ again _ .”

“Lucky you then. Tell me, is it just as much fun as you remembered?” She leaned forward and even in the dim lighting, the details of her face became so much clearer. She was very real. This situation was too real.

“Well… last time I volunteered.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Details...don’t worry, I promise you that you’re going to have a great time with us. As long as you listen." She paused and for the first time, he saw a little bit of her brother in her eyes. "And between you and me, I hope you don’t.”

Steve gave her a dark look. 

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. Never been kidnapped before? Forget how much fun it is?”

“Yes. I’ve been kidnapped before. I don’t quite recall fun being part of the experience.” 

“This time’s different. You’ve got company.” She reached her hand towards Peter's head and Steve immediately unwrapped his arm from around him to snatch her wrist.

She stared at him as if she were surprised at his reaction. But she didn't try to pull her hand back. “Excuse me.” 

“Don’t touch him.”

“You’re in no place to tell me what to do.” Her eyebrows narrowed as she glared at him. 

He squeezed her wrist in warning.

“I’d be careful not to be so foolish if I were you." Her glare turned until a smile. "You can’t protect him all the time.”

He scrunched his face in a glare of his own before letting go of her hand. He still eyed it and if she tried to touch him again, he was going to leave a bruise. 

“Good boy. Keep in mind that you may be used to this kind of fun, but  _ he _ isn’t." She was right. Even as Spider-Man, he wasn't used to actual torture. He was bruised and beat up but never captured and tortured. "And we’d be happy to give him hell if that’s what you want.”

"Hurt him and I promise, it's the last thing you'll do." That was a promise Steve planned to keep.

As she stood up though, it didn't seem to be a threat she was worried about. Steve didn't care. Her underestimating him would only work in his favor. "Goodnight, Captain. Sleep well. You have a very long day ahead of you." 

Steve watched her leave, her ponytail effortlessly swaying behind her with each step she took. When she shut the door, the little light they had in the room went black, leaving them in pitch darkness. 

Steve didn't move from his position even an inch all night. 

\--

The end of the first day came much too soon. They were nowhere closer to finding them and they had received no ransom calls. Usually, they came by now. 

He had no help from any other Avenger and it would have been incredibly useful. Natasha would have hacked into a database Tony didn't even know existed and somehow found their location. 

Instead, he was forced to call each one of them and leave a message about Steve and Peter's disappearance with no details. Because he had none. 

There were no cameras near Steve's park, but there was one by the alley Peter's stuff was left in. The CCTV footage showed Peter walking through the alley, probably because of a shortcut. He never made it out the other end. But before a white van pulled up behind him and stayed for almost 6 minutes before it pulled away away, speeding down the street. 

Harry was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed and Peter's camera in his lap. Peter had only taken 4 new pictures that morning. One was the sun over skyscrapers, another of a bunch of people crossing the street and nearly getting hit by a blurry yellow taxi, another was of a pigeon that Peter swore he saw every morning on his walk to school and named Pudge (Tony knew it was probably a different pigeon each day but Peter was convinced it was the same), and the last one was of a cafe menu in a window. That could have been passed off as being taken because of the aesthetic of it, but Tony also knew that Peter took it probably just because it was a place he found and wanted to try out. He'd forget it if he didn't take a picture of it.

Each of the pictures were so painfully touristy that Tony should have hated them. Peter lived in this city all his life and went through at least 4 SD cards a month; he could get better pictures. 

But he didn't hate them. He loved every bit of them. Because what he was seeing was through Peter's eyes. He had been walking down the street and something told him what he photographed was beautiful enough to be remembered forever. 

That's what made all of Peter's photographs so beautiful to Tony: the beauty Peter Peter created. 

He could see the same exact picture taken by someone else and he'd pick Peter's any time because his had a flair to it. They were  _ Peter's. _

Harry was still looking at those photos hours later, so maybe he saw it too. 

Tony walked over to him and sighed heavily. "You should head to bed." 

His head snapped up quickly. "Sleep? Are you-- crazy?" 

Tony hated this part. The waiting. The unknown. He was Tony Stark; he hated not knowing things. "There's nothing we can really do right now, kid. I'll stay up and keep working on trying to break whatever the hell is blocking the signal, but you need to sleep." 

"I can't sleep without him," Harry said, looking back down at the camera in his lap. "He should be home safe." 

Tony kneeled in front of Harry and put a hand on his knee, trying to catch his eyes. "Harry, right now, I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing they're together. Whoever took them is keeping them together and I know Steve is doing everything he can to take care of Peter. And that means he's making sure he's getting sleep. So that means it’s my job to make sure you’re getting enough sleep too."

Harry hesitated before he sighed and shut off the camera. Tony took it from his hands and put it on the table behind him. "I want him home." 

Tony nodded his head as he grabbed the throw blanket from the top of the couch to throw over Harry. "He'll be home soon. Tomorrow night, he'll be back. They'll both be home." 

Harry moved positions so he was laying down on the couch, ready to fall asleep. "You'll wake me up if anything changes?" 

"Of course." Tony tucked the blanket around him before he stood up and walked back over to the set up he had in the kitchen. He sat down and got right back to work.

Even hours after Harry's breathing evened out, Tony was still sitting in the same spot and staring at the screen as his eyes burned. 

Nothing changed. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun is coming :)


	3. day two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is when the whump starts...

Steve didn't sleep. He didn't have a choice. How was he supposed to sleep when one of those assholes could walk right in and hurt Peter? It just wasn't an option. 

So when Nice Guy walked back in, hours later, Steve's burning eyes were still locked on the door. 

Nice Guy. He was really Felix, as Missy had told him. Missy and Felix. He didn't like giving them normal names. That made them human. And these people keeping them in chains couldn't possibly be human. 

When Nice Guy came inside, the door swung open, slamming it against the wall. The loud bang of metal against concrete had Peter stirring from his sleep. He groaned and Steve curled around him to try and block him from Nice Guy's view as much as possible.

“How was your first night? As delightful as we promised?” He sauntered in, wearing a different pair of slacks, button down shirt and waistcoat. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he grinned down at them. 

Steve glared back, hoping he didn't look as ragged as he felt. He could stay up for 24 hours. He'd done it before. Many times. "Just splendid.” 

“Oh, I'm sure." Nice Guy's eyes fluttered over to Peter and Steve tried to move more in front of him. The man looked back at him with a knowing grin. "I hope you’re excited for today.” 

As sarcastically as he could, he replied, "I can hardly wait.” 

The door opened again, this time much gentler. The woman, Missy, was back. Her hair was still impeccably done and had on another outfit that was probably worth more than all of Steve's clothes. Well, before Tony Stark became his husband. 

She had a pair of white masks in her hand, but Steve couldn't get a good look at them yet. In the other hand was a wooden baseball bat. That made his heart skip a beat. 

Behind her, the two brutes came in less gracefully than she did. One was holding a camera and one was holding a tripod, hitting it against the doorframe as he walked through the doorway. 

Steve knew this had to be coming and even though he hated to imagine what was going to be recorded, he was relieved to know at least Tony was getting proof of life soon. He didn't want him worrying any more than he should have to. 

Missy walked over to her brother and shoved one of the masks in his chest. "Do me a favor and cover your face." 

Steve hated that. He hated the normal bickering. He hated their humanity. 

Nice Guy grabbed it from her hand and threw it on. It was a simple flat white mask with nothing but the black paint making it into a face. There was a string that tied around the back to keep it in place and Nice Guy didn't ensure that his hair wasn't mussed from it. 

Missy on the other hand took her time putting on her own mask. She leaned the bat against her hip until she had her face covered and her hair fixed. 

Their masks weren't terrifying, but they were unsettling. Creepy. They had the same theme of a pair of black circles as eyes. Missy's eyes had eyelashes and trails dripping that looked like tears. Hers had no mouth, but Nice Guy's mask had a Cheshire grin.

She picked the baseball bat again, giving it a little swing before having it rest on her shoulders. But her swing was flawless. It made a sound through the air that told Steve just how much it would hurt if it came in contact with a human body.

Nice Guy came closer to them, squatting down. He was too close to Peter. Steve backed away as best as he could with Peter asleep in his lap still. 

Nice Guy used this distraction to send his hand flying against Peter's cheek, a loud smack echoing in the small room. 

Steve stopped moving immediately and shoved Nice Guy backwards. He fell over on his ass, but he was laughing too much to care. "What? Was just waking him up!" 

Steve's wide eyes went down to Peter, who startled awake at the slap. He scrambled up off of Steve's lap and his chest heaved as he glanced around the room. His panic had them all laughing. 

At the blushing of his cheeks, Steve pulled him in closer. "It's okay, bud. I'm here." 

At the sound of his voice, Peter whipped around to face him and almost immediately, all of the panic from his eyes disappeared. "Pops." 

Steve did his best to muster up a small smile for him. "Yeah…" 

Thankfully, Peter didn't say anything else and chose to stay quiet as he leaned back closer to Steve. Steve wrapped an arm around him and moved a few inches in front of him. 

"Well, now that you’re both up, I think it's time to start the show." Nice Guy was up on his feet and facing the two brutes as they finally finished setting up the camera. 

Steve turned to Peter and whispered in an almost silent voice, knowing he could hear. "This is going to Dad. He's gonna see us." The rest of it was left unsaid.  _ Smile. Don't be scared. Fake it long enough until the film stops rolling.  _

Peter gave him a small nod. Then he nodded again and sat up a bit straighter. "Yeah. Got it." 

"Don't try anything funny or else sissy gets to use her bat. Kid says something? Dad gets some fun. Dad says something? Kid gets the fun."

"We'll behave," Steve said, partially for Nice Guy and partially for Peter. That kid had to listen to him. 

"Oh, we know. Trust us." Steve couldn't see her face, but he knew there was a smirk on her face. "You two wouldn't dare to step out of line. Not when we have you two chained up at our mercy." 

As much as Steve hated the words, she was right. So when the red light blinked on, Steve stared forward and didn't say a word. 

\--

Harry was picking at a piece of toast when they heard the call. Tony stopped insisting for him to finish eating and whirled around to the work station. 

He'd been up all night and uncovered  _ nothing.  _

"FRIDAY, what's the message?" 

_ "You have a video file from an anonymous source."  _

"Scan it. Is it safe?" Tony asked, his heart pounding in his chest. 

_ "Yes."  _

"Then open it!" He shouted before he could think it through. He had no idea what they were about to see. Should he tell Harry to leave the room before he saw it? One glance back at Harry told him that he wasn't going to get him out of the kitchen. 

The screen came to life and Tony jumped when the first thing he saw full screen was a mask. Two big black dots as the eyes accompanied by a painted on grin had him feeling unsettled. "Well, good day to you, Mr. Stark. I'm sure by now, you probably already know what this is all about." He stepped back until his entire upper body was now in frame. Tony's eyes searched the screen for any sign of Peter and Steve. 

"I think we have something that belongs to you." 

Finally, he took a step to the side and Steve and Peter came into view. Tony stepped closer to the screen so he could see them better. Peter was sitting close to Steve's side and he looked fine. He was giving the camera a weak smile and his skin was unmarked. Steve had an arm around him and wasn't smiling at the camera but was giving Tony a face to let him know he was okay. They both looked fine besides for the chains around their wrists keeping them in that dark room. 

"These two do belong to you, right? Because I found them just wandering the streets. You should really learn to keep your pets on a tighter leash." 

"FRIDAY," Tony growled. "Scan the people in this video. Scan their voices, their physique, the way they walk, the way they breathe-- scan everything. Tell me if they match up to anything in your system. Don't forget to check fired Stark employees. It's usually that." 

If they were smart enough to cloak the bracelet and necklace that Tony could still see on Steve and Peter, then they were smart enough to work for Stark Industries. 

"I doubt you very much care though, do you?" Another masked person came into view, this time a woman. Her hair was a bright pink. That had to help them with identifying her. "You've still got your money and your toys and your suit. These two? They're meaningless." 

"Pricks," Harry muttered just behind him and Tony didn't know when he moved. 

Tony watched her walk behind them, her long ponytail swaying with her hips. He held his breath as he watched her lift the bat up with one arm.

"Dad, is she gonna…?" 

Tony swallowed past the lump in his throat. "God, I hope not." 

"If you were here with us, we'd let you pick, but...this will do for now." She lifted the bat up and rested it on the top of Steve's head. 

Steve's eyes fluttered shut and the smile disappeared from Peter's face immediately. He opened his mouth, but the bat moved before he could say a word so he snapped it shut again. 

The woman moved the bat slowly from Steve's head to Peter's. Before Steve could react, the bat moved back to his in the same calm fashion. As she moved the bat from one head back to the other, she sang, "Eenie meenie miney moe. Catch a captain," she paused with the bat resting on Steve's head for a moment. 

Tony held his breath, just waiting for her to  _ do something.  _

When she finally moved the bat again, there was no force behind it and she continued her singing. "By the toe. If he hollers, let him go. My brother says to pick the very best one and you are it." 

Tony swore that the moment her bat landed on the top of Peter's head, his heart stopped. 

"Dad," Harry said, grabbing into his arm as his voice cracked. 

"She's not," Tony said. "He's a kid. There's a line-- you don't cross it with kids." 

"They've already got him chained up. Not everyone has our same morals," Harry argued, his fingers digging into Tony's arm. 

"Well, you see Steve there. He's not going to let that happen. He'd never let them hurt him." 

Back on the screen, Peter had his eyes squeezed shut while Steve's were wide open. He glanced back at her and was immediately saying, "No, no, no. Move it again. One more time." 

The women's grip on the bat tightened and she held with more purpose, but it stayed trained on Peter. "I don't like being told what to do." 

Steve faltered. "I'm not-- I'm not ordering you to. I'm asking. Please." He paused, staring at her. 

Tony didn't want Steve to get the bat, but he didn't want his son to either. If he were there, he'd gladly take it. 

"I don't negotiate with anyone. I do what  _ I  _ want. So, thank your lucky stars that I don't want to do it to the kid." Tony could hear the smirk in her voice. "I caught a captain, didn't I?" 

Tony watched in horror as she raised the bat again, getting in a perfect stance and started her swing. 

The swing couldn't have lasted more than 2 seconds, but it seemed to drag on. Tony grabbed Harry by the back of the neck and pulled his face against his side. He didn't want him to see this. He wished he could have shut Peter's eyes, but they were wide and staring right at Steve. 

Not only was her swing perfect, but so was her control. Just before the wood would have connected with the side of Steve's head, she stopped herself. 

Peter sagged in relief and Steve stayed still as she laughed and pressed the bat against his cheek. She kept it there as she laughed. "Bet you all thought I was gonna hit that pretty face of his." 

"You shoulda, sissy. Some red in that blond hair of his will really make those blue eyes pop," the man in the mask said. 

"Please, no…" Peter said, his voice shaky. 

"Peter," Steve snapped in a warning. 

Peter snapped his mouth shut, but Tony could still see the fear in his eyes. 

The woman pulled her bat away from Steve's face finally and slung it back over her shoulders. "Bat's too boring. I've got so much more fun planned for him." 

She walked to the side and the man came back to Steve and Peter's side again. "We don't expect you to miss these two or care much about getting them back. But if you would rather have them and lose 5 million, then keep your eye out for more of these fun little check ins. But for now, that'll be all." 

The screen went black and Tony reached out a hand. He wasn't ready to not see them anymore. They were alive now and they weren't just-- yet. But that wasn't enough. 

"They're-- they're alive," Harry said. "They're alive and they're together. That's good. Right?" 

Tony nodded his head once. "Yeah, kid…" He let go of Harry and stood up. "And we're gonna get them back home. Together." 

"Can FRIDAY trace where the message came from?" 

"If she could have, I'd be there already. But FRIDAY, keep trying just in case. Also, route 5 mil into a private account so I can take it out and get it ready. May take some time, but hopefully, by the time I get it, they'll give me a location." 

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked, standing up next to him. 

"You know you're way around a computer well enough to go through CCTV feeds and see if you can find where the van goes either before or after it gets to Peter." Tony grabbed his wrist and started to lead him towards the table. "I'll get you a laptop and set you up with the feeds." 

"I'm not as good as Pete--." 

"You go to that school for a reason. If you need help, ask me or FRIDAY. You've got this, Hare." He sat him down and squeezed both of his shoulders. "We're gonna get them back. We've got this." 

\--

Even after the camera stopped recording, Missy kept the bat in her grip. Steve was eyeing Nice Guy as he stood in front of them while keeping an eye on her as well.

Nice Guy must have noticed his glances and he chuckled behind the mask. "You like her Slugger, huh? You know...I've got something myself." 

Steve's eyes snapped back to Nice Guy as he took a step closer. He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a pair of brass knuckles. He slipped them on his hand and flexed his fingers. He held it up for Steve to get a better view of. “Do you like it? Guarantees a good time.” 

Steve just stared back up at him, showing no reaction to it. He refused to slip. It was just brass knuckles. He'd been through so much worse.

“Now, Captain, I’m gonna give you a choice. Who should we try this out on? You or the little one?” 

Steve glanced at Peter and then back at Nice Guy. The answer was obvious. “Well, I sure wouldn’t want to miss out on  _ that _ fun.” He cracked a smile back at him to match that crazy mask of his.

“No! Wait!” Peter shouted. “Why does he get to pick? Don’t I have a say?”

Nice Guy took a step closer to Peter, tilting his head. Peter tensed as his wide eyes stared at the mask. “Why? Would you like a turn too? We only planned on one of you, but I’m sure we can make time for both.” 

“Don’t listen to him,” Steve said quickly before looking over at Peter, giving him a look that screamed,  _ shut the fuck up. _

Peter ignored him, of course. “Can we at least split it? I’ll take half!”

Nice Guy laughed. “Oh, that sounds fun. What do you think, Captain?”

“I’m feeling quite selfish today,” Steve said, hoping to get the man’s attention again. 

It worked. “That’s what I thought.” Nice Guy closed the short distance between them and didn't waste a second before he punched Steve across the cheek. Immediately, he felt the metal break his skin. 

Peter shouted out before the fist was even pulled back. “Stop!”

Nice Guy turned to face Peter. “What’s a matter? I asked your father and he made this choice.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt us! You didn’t even give my dad a chance to give you the money yet!”

“Oh, no. Does that make me a liar?” He kept staring at Peter while he punched Steve again. It didn't hurt as much as a bat, but it wasn't pleasant either.

Peter cried out, “Please!”

Nice Guy thankfully turned back to Steve. He needed to keep it all away from Peter.  _ That stupid kid-- why couldn't he just stay quiet? _ “Everyone always talks about how strong you are. No one can take on Captain America...and yet, here I am. I have you all to myself.” 

“Leave him alone!” Peter screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be strong, but you’re weak! You’ve always been weak. Otherwise, you would have been out of here already!” He said with two more punches, breaking skin each time. 

“He’s not weak! You are! You’re all a bunch of cowards!” 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat the second Peter opened his mouth and said those words.  _ Stupid.  _ And then the punches stopped. Nice Guy grabbed him by the collar. He sounded angry and Steve didn't want to see the fury in his eyes behind that mask right now. “Tell your boy to shut up.  _ Get him to shut up.”  _

“Pete-- hush,” Steve pleaded around his split lip.

“Not when they’re hurting you!” Peter yelled, his voice breaking. 

“Pete…”

“Last chance, kid. I’d listen to your dad.” He punched him again. “You're fucking weak.” Another punch. “You're fucking pathetic.” Another punch. 

“He’s not weak or pathetic!” Peter just wouldn’t  _ shut up. _ “You’re the ones that have to chain him up and keep him captured to even touch him! You’re the pathetic piece of shit!”

Steve closed his eyes, groaning. The kid didn’t know when to stop. He said to just trust him. To listen. But he didn’t. 

Of course, Nice Guy stopped punching the moment Peter finished. He continued staring at Steve for a long moment before turning back to Peter, who was glaring at him. 

The continued silence meant trouble. Peter needed to learn to just shush. Just for once.

Nice Guy was done with giving second chances, it seemed. “What did you say?”

Peter was still glaring with his chest puffed out. Steve had seen him do it so many times before when showing him his Captain America impression. Steve didn’t want him to have to try and act strong. He was just a kid. “You heard me. Should I repeat it?”

_ No _ . “Peter--."

“No,” Nice Guy said, his voice sounding too calm. “I wanna hear him. Kid’s got some balls.” 

_ No. Peter, please. God no--. _

“I said you’re weak and pathe--.”

Nice Guy suddenly wasn’t so nice as he growled, “Someone shut this brat up.”

_ Brat.  _ Steve felt his blood boil at that name. 

The other two bigger guys walked over to Peter and Steve gritted his teeth, ready to fight if they hurt his boy. Peter was out of sight once they were in front of him. Steve could only hear them grunting as Peter struggled. “Hold him steady.” 

Steve couldn’t do much. His face was beat to shit, he was chained up, and saying too much would only piss them off more. But he didn’t want them to hurt Peter. They were holding him steady for something and he was afraid of what. Steve’s voice was weak as he croaked, "Don’t…”

Finally, one of them stepped back so Steve could see what they'd done. One of them was still holding Peter roughly by the cheeks so his face was pointed towards Steve. It gave him a good view of the gag they had strapped around his face. 

“That’s much better, Dad. Don’t you think?” Nice Guy said, pulling up his mask to show the smile that was hiding,

Steve stayed quiet, staring at Peter. It nauseated him to see his own kid gagged. Where did they even get a muzzle for a human? Did they keep it in their pockets just waiting for the right time?

Despite the punishment, Peter still wasn't being quiet and he was grunting behind the gag.

Nice Guy groaned, although it wasn't out of frustration or annoyance. He sounded amused again. Of course, he did. He had control again. “He’s still going? Does your kid ever shut up, Cap? You should train him better.” He turned to Peter. “The sooner you shut up, the sooner I leave your father alone.” 

Peter eyes flickered over to Steve and went quiet.  _ Finally.  _

The man laughed loudly. “Thank you!” He turned back to Steve and punched him two more times before stopping. “I think we’ve had enough, don’t you?” He turned to Peter and asked, “What do you think, bud? Is your dad done?”

Peter said something, but it was too muffled to understand.

“What was that?” Nice Guy smirked. “I can’t understand you when you talk like that.”

Peter stopped talking, his cheeks blushing red. 

“And you think  _ I’m  _ the pathetic one.” He laughed as he glanced between them. “Look at you two...you make quite the pair.” 

As he stared at them, the woman with the other mask came walking over with a tray of food. 

Nice Guy let go of Steve’s shirt and let him fall. Steve groaned and blinked his one eye that wasn't already swollen. Nice Guy walked over to Peter and kneeled close to him. Once again, Steve was ready to fight if necessary, even though he wouldn't do much. 

His voice was patronizing as he cooed to Peter, as if he were a toddler and not a teenager. “You’re keeping that on until you learn. Next time, I’d shut up if I were you.” He reached out to pinch the part of his cheek showing, but Peter stumbled backwards. Nice Guy laughed as he straightened himself up again.

The woman dropped the tray by Steve and Nice Guy ordered, “Eat. I expect the food gone by tomorrow morning or your kid will get to know my fist.” He turned to Peter and warned, “If you even try pulling that off, I will beat your father until he stops breathing.” 

Nice Guy turned around and left, but the woman stayed back. She crossed her arms over her chest as she stared down at Steve. Steve glared as best as he could with one eye already swelling shut. She moved to pull her mask off her face and leaned in close. She dragged a single finger down his face, from his temple to his chin, stopping to keep her finger there. “Not so pretty now, huh?”

Steve just glared and thankfully, Peter stayed quiet.

Unfortunately, it didn't keep her attention from him. After she was done with Steve, she walked to Peter and ruffled his hair roughly. “I was hoping they'd shut you up. Maybe now you'll learn to be a good boy.”

Steve saw the fire in Peter's eyes. He definitely wanted to go off on them all and he would have if he physically could. Steve furiously shook his head to tell Peter to not fight back, ignoring the fact that it only made his pounding headache worse.

Peter caught him in his gaze and stepped down, letting her laugh down at him without saying a word. 

Then, she was leaving. “Sweet dreams, boys. See you later.”

She walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving them both alone and in silence. But of course, it was quiet. Peter was the talkative one. He was the one that rambled anxiously and talked just to hear something other than the silence. He was also the one that talked back too much.

“You know,” Steve said, clearing his throat. “I hate to say it, but...they had a point.” 

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion, maybe even slight shock because Steve was taking their side. 

Steve sighed, looking down at his feet. He couldn't reprimand his child when he was staring back with a gag on his face. “You gotta-- watch what you say...I said don’t play the hero. Please. I know you want to, but I can take it, kid…”

He heard Peter sniffle. God, Steve hated this. As he stared down at his lap, unsure of what to say next, Peter leaned forward and wiped some blood off his face.

Steve looked up to give him a small smile. “Thanks, buddy.” 

Peter hesitated, his face scrunching up before he tried so hard to say something behind the muzzle.

“Don’t...” Steve said, shaking his head. He knew he was probably apologizing. 

Peter only nodded his head and muttered again, furrowing his brow in frustration when Steve couldn't understand him.

Steve couldn't listen to him like this. Sure, Steve warned him not to talk back, but that didn't mean Steve could be upset at him. That was just Peter, as much as it frustrated him. No kid should worry about being gagged if they talked too much, especially when he was only talking to beg a man to stop beating his father. “Don’t-- Don’t be...please. It’s not you.” 

Peter noticed Steve’s gaze on his mouth and looked down so Steve couldn’t see it. 

“Can I see it?” Steve asked quietly. 

Peter shrunk down and wrapped his arms around himself. That was probably a no. 

“You don't have to be embarrassed, kiddo. I'm your father.” It was supposed to make Peter feel better, but it only made him feel worse. What father lets some crazy man strap a muzzle to their child's face? “I just want to make sure you're alright.”

Peter looked up slowly and Steve didn't mention the tears welling in his eyes. 

Steve hesitated as he reached out a hand. “Does it hurt? Did they pinch your skin?”

Peter shook his head, some curls falling to his forehead. Steve brushed them aside before cupping his cheek. Inspecting the gag further, he saw it was actually locked. Somehow when they clicked it shut, it triggered a locking mechanism. 

Peter didn't seem to like the attention on him, so he pulled away and pushed the tray closer to Steve. He was looking down at the ground again, refusing to look Steve in the eyes. He hesitated, still eyeing Peter. Peter pushed the tray closer and Steve sighed, starting to eat begrudgingly. 

Steve would be lying if he said he wasn't grateful to finally eat. His stomach had been eating itself with the way he starved it yesterday. Peter was right: his metabolism was just as bad as Peter's. But that didn't mean he was going to eat the food. Peter needed to eat. He was his kid. He was getting the food, no questions asked.

But now, he was so hungry, soon he was shoveling fork full after fork full into his mouth. He didn't slow down until the rumble of a stomach interrupted his loud chewing.

He froze, feeling like such an asshole as he looked up and saw Peter looking down at his lap, holding his stomach. He couldn't see his face, but the tips of his ears were bright red.

He wiped his chin, wiping some of the mush off that missed his mouth. "I'm sorry, Peter." 

How dare he eat when Peter couldn't? He was his father and Peter was supposed to come first.

Peter shrugged his shoulders before he mumbled again. That stupid gag-- Steve couldn't understand a damn word. 

Steve didn't know what else to say. He looked down at his plate of food, already almost empty. He looked back up when he heard Peter's chains dragging against the floor. 

Peter's back was facing Steve as he laid down on the floor. He curled himself up in a ball and Steve felt his heart shatter a little more.

"Goodnight, kiddo…" 

Steve waited, but he didn't even hear a mumble behind the muzzle. 

\--

Harry worked through different feeds on the computer until his fingers started to cramp and his eyes started to burn. 

He rubbed at them for the dozenth time in the past minute before he sighed heavily and realized he'd have to stop and get some rest before picking this up tomorrow. 

There wasn't even a license plate to track. He just had to try and guess their route by checking nearby streets for the van at different times. 

The next day he'd have to check out streets by the park Steve was at. Maybe he'd catch  _ something.  _

But now, he had to get some sleep. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and flinched at the time. It was past 1 in the morning. 

He turned around and saw why Tony hadn't urged him to sleep yet. He was passed out with his face against the table. 

Harry sighed as he stood up from the table. He knew Tony was trying his best not to freak out in front of him, but Harry knew it was taking a toll on him. Not that he expected anything different. His husband and son were kidnapped. 

Harry was scared too. He was terrified. At school, he was used to protecting Peter from the bullies. But now, his bullies were twice his age and definitely insane. 

He trusted him with Steve wholeheartedly, but what if Steve  _ couldn't  _ stop them from hurting him? Would they actually refrain from hurting him because he was a kid? 

Probably not. 

Harry shook the thoughts from his head as he stopped by Tony. He didn't want to think about the things he couldn't change. He might as well help how he could. 

Which started with getting Tony to an actual place to sleep. He rubbed his back gently until he blinked his eyes open. He moaned and squinted up at Harry. 

"Hey, Dad…we should get you to your room. You'll hate yourself tomorrow for sleeping like this." 

"No," he grunted, fighting against Harry. "Don't wanna sleep there without him." 

Harry froze, knowing Tony must have been really exhausted if he said that. He usually liked to smile and say he was fine even when he obviously wasn't. "Okay...then, how about the couch?"

"Gotta work," he mumbled even though he wasn't fighting as much now that he wasn't going to bring him to his room. 

"Alright. Then let's just take a short break and get back to work. 10 minutes tops." 

"Okay," he said as Harry lowered him to the couch and tucked him in just like he did to him yesterday. 

"I'll wake you up soon," he lied and waited for Tony to let his eyes fall shut again. 

Harry walked over to the chair next to the couch and laid down, pulling a blanket over himself. He shut his eyes, trying not to think about what Peter was doing right now. He'd never fall asleep then and he  _ needed  _ to fall asleep in order to rest up and work at full capacity tomorrow. Burning himself out wouldn't help Peter or Steve. 

Hopefully, Tony didn't forget that. Harry couldn't find them without him. 

\--

"He's so adorable when he's finally quiet, huh?" 

Steve shot awake when he heard that voice. He didn't even remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was sitting between the door and Peter, keeping guard. 

But somehow, Nice Guy had snuck in and gotten past Steve without him waking. 

He could still feel the pounding against his skull and the pulsing in his eye from his beating. He pushed himself up, his vision still blurry from exhaustion. "Get the hell 'way from him," he muttered. 

He heard Nice Guy laugh and when he blinked enough times to see straight, he saw him sitting with his legs crossed. He had that mask off thankfully, but he was wearing a smile that matched it. 

Peter was still asleep, curled in his tight ball. Only inches away from Nice Guy.

"How was dinner? You're welcome by the way. Not only for shutting him up, but getting you something to eat. You seem like the kind of guy that would give up his food for some kid." 

Steve growled as he sat up, waking himself up. He couldn't let the drowsiness take over again. He needed to stay awake. "He's my son." 

"Is he?" Nice Guy asked still holding his ankles with his hands as he sat there. "How does that work exactly? You and Stark having a kid." 

Steve narrowed his eyes, feeling his skin pull at wounds trying to close themselves up. "He's my kid just as much as I was my ma's. Is there another reason why you're here?" 

"Just wanted to see Missy's little muzzle here at work." He glanced back down at Peter and used a hand to turn Peter's face to them. 

His face was slack in his sleep as he breathed heavily through his nose. Steve inched closer with a warning, "Get your hand off of him." 

"You don't like it? She made this. She makes so many fun things that I honestly cannot wait to try out." Nice Guy boasted about his sister's work the same way a mother would about her son's perfect test score. "My sister's smart. Real good with tech too." 

Steve stayed silent, wishing these chains weren't keeping him away from Peter. Did Nice Guy pull Peter away when he came in or did Peter just drift farther when he went to bed? 

"You wanna know my favorite part of this? If you try to pull this off...you see these?" He tapped the part of the muzzle that was locked in by his temples. "Enough watts come out of those to fry that little brain of his in seconds."

Steve didn't say a word. 

"Oh come on. Don't you want to see what happens?"

Steve still stayed silent. 

"No? Alright, but if you wanna mess with it after I leave, I'm gonna be really upset. I wanna see it in action."

Steve wasn't going to mess with it, but now he didn't even want to touch it. Why was Nice Guy? What if he put too much pressure? Steve didn't doubt his warning, but he didn't want to test it either way.

"You know what would be really funny?" Nice Guy asked, completely changing the subject. "What happens if I just…" He trailed off as he moved his hand from Peter's temple and pinched his pointer finger and thumb together...with Peter's nose between them. 

Steve immediately yanked against his restraints, all of his exhaustion gone. "Get your fucking hand off of him!" 

Peter grunted and began to shake his head back and forth weakly. Nice Guy watched him in amusement. 

"He can't breathe!" Steve said, pulling as hard as he could against the chains. 

Nice Guy kept his fingers pinching his nose until Peter used a hand to slap it away. Nice Guy moved his hand away before Peter could hit him and instead, he only hit himself in the face. 

Nice Guy hollered out a laugh, but Steve watched Peter's chest, waiting for it to rise up in a long breath and then deflate when he let it out again. 

"This is fun."

"Get the fuck out of here," Steve snarled. 

"You're not the one in charge here. When will you learn that?" Nice Guy turned to him with a tilted head and furrowed brow. "You are mine. Your boy is mine. You don't have a say in any of this. So, be a good little bitch and keep quiet or else we'll have some problems." 

Steve continued to glare at him even as he stood up on his feet and towered over Steve, despite his short stature. Steve hated being chained to the ground like this. 

"See? You stayed quiet. Good bitch." Nice Guy smiled at him as he walked over and patted the top of his head like a dog. "Well, I've got to get some sleep. Missy says I can't stay up too late so I better head back. But I hope you two have a good night. Enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts." 

Steve didn't stop glaring, even though it hurt his bruised face, until the door was shut and once again, the room was pitch black. At least the artificial lighting could tell them what time of day it was. 

He had enhanced night vision thanks to the serum so when he looked back over at Peter, he could see him laying there, still sound asleep. 

Steve didn't lay back down but kept his back to the door as he stared intently at Peter's chest, ensuring it continued to rise and fall like it was supposed to. 

"Just keep breathing, Pete," Steve whispered helplessly. "We'll be out of here soon." 


	4. day three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read tags as they're update if you want to know the whump in store for each chapter before they're updated.

Steve must have dozed off because the next time he was aware again, Peter was crying. It wasn't a muffled cry that he was trying to hide from him. It was panicked and sounded like he was barely breathing. 

Steve pushed himself off the wall to try and wake himself up and Peter was still lying in his lap but was twisting around. His hand was gripping Steve's shirt tightly but he stayed asleep. 

He was having a nightmare. 

But that damn muzzle was still on his face and because that was covering his mouth, the could only breathe through his nose in short breaths. He was hyperventilating from it and that immediately woke Steve up. 

He started to shake Peter's shoulder to try and wake him from the nightmare. He was crying and saying something incomprehensible behind the mask. 

"Pete, buddy, wake up. You're okay. It's just a dream," Steve said, despite Peter not being able to hear him in his sleep. 

Eventually, he awoke and his eyes snapped open. They didn't dart around the room frantically for more than a second or two before they focused up at Steve. 

He let another sob and Steve lifted him up so he could pull him close in his arms. He threaded his fingers through his hair softly as he whispered, "It's okay, sweetie. Papa's here. You're okay." 

Tears were still streaming from the corners of his eyes and slipped between his cheeks and the muzzle. Steve tried to catch them before they did and wipe them away gently. “You’re okay, baby. It’s okay.” 

Peter stared up at him and Steve knew he was struggling to calm down his breathing. Steve kept the smile on his face as he hushed him softly. He had to help him calm down so he could actually breathe. 

“It’s okay,” he continued. “They’re not here. It’s just us. Just you and me.” Steve began to caress the skin not covered by the muzzle, just under his eye as he hummed softly. 

Peter stared up at him as he tried to regulate his breathing. He had a few moments when he failed to hold back a sob and had to start all over again. But eventually, Peter’s breathing evened out and his sobbing stopped. 

“Bad dream, huh?” Steve helped him sit up and Peter leaned against him. “You’ll be okay. I’m right here. Right here.” 

Peter curled up and wiped his nose on his Steve’s shirt. Steve didn’t push him away. He didn’t even make a face. He just held onto him tighter. “We’re getting out of here soon. I promise you, bud.” 

Steve didn’t break his promises to Peter. And he didn’t plan on starting now. 

\--

Peter didn’t fall back to sleep after the nightmare, but at least they were alone for a few more hours until they came back into the room. 

Nice Guy walked in with the mask over his face, Missy following close behind with her own. That meant another ransom video. “How are my boys today?”

“Peachy,” Steve replied and hesitated only a second before asking, “How about yourself?”

He laughed, happy to be asked. Steve considered it a win to keep him in a good mood. “I’m great!” He turned to Peter, leaning down to address him in a condescending voice, “What about you, bud? How’re you doing?” 

Steve glared at him when he called Peter “bud”, stealing his nickname for Peter. Peter stayed quiet, staring down at the ground.

Nice Guy reached over and ruffled Peter’s hair. “I see you’re finally staying quiet. Probably saved a headache from your Pops.”

“He should thank us,” Missy said in her normally bored tone. “He’s stuck here all day with no way to escape the kid’s constant chatter.” She turned to look at Steve, her mask just as unsettling to his eyes as it was the first time he saw her wearing it. “What do you say, honey?”

This wasn’t his first time being held hostage and even though Steve knew how to keep them happy, that didn’t mean it was any easier. “Thank you,” he said between gritted teeth. 

He saw Peter hunch his shoulders as Nice Guy laughed.  _ I don’t mean it, Pete. _

One of the brutes set up the camera behind Nice Guy. “We just want to send a little present to Mr. Stark.” He walked next to Steve and Peter with the mask still on. Missy grinned and flipped on the switch as Nice Guy put his hand in Peter’s hair, letting it rest there. 

"Excited to hear from us again?" He started to pet Peter's hair in a steady motion as he spoke. Peter glared up at him but didn't say a word. 

"Don't touch him," Steve snapped even though he probably should have kept his mouth shut.

Nice Guy groaned as he glanced over at him-- or well, Steve assumed he was staring over at him even if he couldn't see his eyes behind the mask. "Shut up or else we'll do what we did yesterday. This time we'll have a little show for your lover boy." 

Steve clenched his jaw-- his very bruised jaw-- and went quiet. He didn't want to make this any harder for Tony to watch. 

Once he was silent, Nice Guy seemed satisfied enough to turn back to the camera. Thankfully, his hand was out of Peter's hair now. "Look at what we did. Look at how hurt he is. We could do the same to your little one here. But it's no fun when you can't hear him beg."

Missy came into view and spread her arms wide. "You couldn't hide them in your ivory tower. You couldn't protect them with your gadgets and fancy toys and money. You couldn't stop us." 

"Not only him, sis, but Captain America himself too. Look at him here on his knees. Chained up. Waiting for his next punishment. He knows not to step out of line. We've got him trained well already." 

"I hope he does make a little fuss though. That's most fun for me," Missy replied as if Steve wasn't right there. 

"He wouldn't. Not when we've got his boy right here." Nice Guy's hand went back to Peter and he grabbed him by the cheeks and turned his face towards Steve. 

Peter's eyes refused to meet Steve's as he was manhandled. 

"It's so easy for us," Nice Guy sang. "So easy to make him cry for Papa...so hard to refrain." 

"Leave him alone," Steve demanded. He didn't care how restrained he was-- they weren't hurting Peter. 

Nice Guy let go of Peter to clap his hands together and Peter's head snapped down by his own doing to stare at the floor. The muzzle was out of sight. "See! I told you! Little kiddie here is his weakness." 

Missy laughed and squatted by the camera to get level with the lens but still gave herself some room from it unlike Felix. "And we're only getting started." Then she reached forward and shut off the camera. 

They didn't even leave a ransom or a demand for Tony. He still had to wait. 

“What do you think?” Nice Guy asked, turning to face Steve. “Think he learned his lesson?”

Steve immediately nodded his head. 

Nice Guy shrugged his shoulders. “Alright then. You can take it off him.” 

Steve hurried to Peter’s side and hesitated. All he could remember was his warning that would send an electric shock to his head so strong that it would kill him. He took Peter’s face in his hands, inspecting the contraption covering his mouth. He was careful and made sure not to touch the muzzle. "How?"

Missy chuckled at his bewilderment. “There are two buttons, one on each strap by his ears. Press ‘em both at once.”

Carefully, Steve followed the instructions and pressed the buttons with his thumbs softly. The gag finally came undone with a click. Peter winced just barely as the piece of metal fell into his hands. Steve threw it across the room, far away from Peter, hopefully, hard enough to break it so it couldn’t be used on him again.

Peter’s eyes met Steve’s briefly before they flickered back to the ground with a quiet mumble, “Thank you.” 

Steve smiled at him and used his thumbs to softly rub the red marks on his cheeks from where his skin was irritated from having the gag strapped on his face for hours. Peter smiled, looking at him finally without turning his attention back down in shame only seconds later. 

“Now that he’s learned his place,” Nice Guy said, disrupting their moment. “I think it’s time we moved on. Step two.” 

Steve glared at him, letting his hands drop from Peter’s face. He moved in front of him slightly to put himself between them and Peter. 

Behind Nice Guy, the other two men came in carrying in a bucket of water. “Now...as much as we’d all love to hurt you just because we can and you’re, well, weak.” He paused to look at Peter, waiting for him to talk back. For the first time that one of them called Steve a belittling name, Peter stayed silent. “I think it’s time we got more than just pleasure from it.”

Steve tensed up, his eyes on the tub.

“We’re not asking much. Just some information you may have for us.” The two were dumping bags of ice into the water and Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the ice. “I think you know where this is going.” Steve continued to stare at the tub with wide eyes. He knew exactly where it was going. And he was scared. 

Nice Guy was amused by his reaction. “Looks fun, doesn’t it? Freezing cold ice bath.” He paused a moment and waited for the men to take a step back from the tub. “I think we’re ready to begin.”

Steve could barely hear what he was saying over the pounding of his heart, loud in his ears. His chest was falling and rising in rapid movements. That ice bath was for him. He was going to be frozen again. 

“Unchain him and bring him over,” Missy said, waving her hand. “Someone else ensure the other doesn’t fight.” One brute went over to Peter and one went to Steve. Steve could barely move to fight them when they pulled them away from each other. Steve wanted to tell them not to hurt Peter, but he couldn’t get his tongue to work and form any words. However, his chains weren’t undone. There was only a knife held to his throat. 

“Now, Captain, you have some information we’d like to know. And I think you’ll make sure to tell us…” 

Steve was being yanked out of his trance the moment he heard the rattling of chains and he still wasn’t being moved. He watched helplessly as Peter was dragged over to the tub and shoved into Nice Guy’s arms. 

Then it clicked. 

“Woah-- woah-- wait, wait--.” 

“Yes?” Nice Guy asked, fixing his hold on Peter. 

“Him? No-- not him. Spare him.” Steve knew exactly what it felt like to drown in ice. It still haunted him even after 70 years later. He didn’t want Peter to have to suffer through the same trauma.

Nice Guy shoved Peter to his knees, just in front of the tub. Steve could see the fear in his eyes, but after being gagged for hours, he didn’t look quick to open his mouth and argue with any of them. “We need the information from you. How will that work if you’re too busy underwater?”

Steve would do anything to keep Peter from being shoved into that bucket of water. “What do you want to know? It doesn’t have to come to that.” 

Nice Guy didn’t offer him an answer immediately. Instead, he grabbed Peter by his hair and forced him to look down at the ice water. “Oh, I hope it does. Like father, like son...your other Daddy knows a lot about waterboarding.” He was talking about Tony and his time years ago in Afghanistan. “And the ice…” He leaned closer to Peter’s ear while looking at Steve and whispering loudly, “Have you ever wondered what it felt like for your Pops to freeze?”

Steve began to panic again. “What do you want?!” 

“Who does Captain America work for? Who gives him his missions?” Nice Guy’s voice was calm.

“An organization called SHIELD,” Steve answered quickly. “Have you ever heard of them?” 

Nice Guy frowned. “Can’t say I have...tell me about them. Is this a government agency?”

“Of sorts…” Steve said. 

Something in Nice Guy’s eyes sparked and Steve knew nothing good was coming. “You see...that really doesn’t help me.” He didn’t wait another second before he shoved Peter’s head underwater.

Steve jerked violently, tugging against his chain. “No!” 

Peter was pulled up, gasping out water, his eyes wide. “You wanna be a little more specific?”

As quickly as he could, Steve answered, “Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Extra-governmental. National-- global security.” 

Nice Guy laughed. “All of that because he took a little swim? Wonder what else you’d tell me.” There was another spark in his eyes, this time of excitement. It scared Steve. “I mean...I know a few guys that would pay big bucks for government secrets. Maybe a heads up… tell me, what’s Captain America’s next mission?”

Shaking his head, he said, “I don’t know. I’ve been off all winter-- out of communication.” 

Nice Guy pushed Peter back under with a bored sigh, reminding Steve of Missy. “Captain America on vacation? You see, that is very hard for me to believe.” 

Steve’s heart was thumping wildly in his chest as he begged, “Stop please! That was the truth!” 

Nice Guy pulled Peter back up, his fingers had a strong grip in his hair. He wrenched Peter’s head back before addressing him, “Do we believe him, Pete?” 

Peter had been so quiet and Steve was proud of him for it even though fear was holding his tongue. Whatever kept Peter from angering them more. Now when he spoke, he barely could through his chattering teeth, “H-he’s been h-home. Promise.” 

Nice Guy paused. “So what does Captain America do if he’s not working?” 

Steve spoke up, desperate to take the attention away from Peter. “Be a father-- a husband-- a normal person.” 

“A father?” He loosened his grip on Peter’s hair, letting his neck return back to a natural and comfortable position. “Fathers usually protect their kids, no?” 

Steve hesitated, not wanting to know where this conversation was going. But if the man was busy with him, Peter had some relief. “...yes--.” 

“You’re Captain America. You’re married to Iron Man. And still, this happened.” He let out a sarcastic laugh. “You two should be fathers of the year.” 

Of course, Peter’s silence didn’t last long. Not when he could defend his dads, even though Steve just wanted him to be quiet and stay safe. “They’re the b-best dads--.” 

However, Nice Guy seemed delighted that Peter opened his mouth. He grinned and pushed Peter’s head back under, directing his gaze back to Steve after watching Peter struggled for a moment. “He doesn’t learn, huh?” 

A scream tore through Steve’s throat, though he couldn’t feel it compared to the agony of watching his boy being waterboarded.  _ “Stop!” _

Nice Guy didn’t lift up. “I warned him what would happen if he spoke when he wasn’t told to.” 

Steve jerked on the chains, trying so hard to break free and save Peter. “Please-- he didn’t mean to.” 

Tilting his head, Nice Guy asked, “So if I pull him up and ask him if he meant it, he’ll say no?” 

“He didn’t mean the disrespect,” Steve clarified. 

Nice Guy waited a second, studying Steve’s face before pulling him back up. Peter was coughing up water, gasping for fresh air. The man’s voice was angry as he scolded Peter, “I said watch your mouth. Now Pops said you didn’t mean the disrespect, should I believe him? Wanna try that again?” 

Peter hesitated and Nice Guy pushed Peter closer to the tub as a warning. Peter quickly said, “Sorry! I didn’t-- Sorry!” 

The anger disappeared immediately from his face and was replaced with a pleased grin. “Good boy.” The way he got pleasure from them both being obedient made Steve sick. He continued his interrogation like there was no interruption, “Now, Captain, I think there’s a lot you're hiding from me with this SHIELD thing...and I don’t like secrets.” 

“What do you want to know?” Steve asked carefully. 

Nice Guy shrugged his shoulders. “Their plans. Their missions. Their strategies. Everything. I know they give you secrets.” 

Steve wished he knew what this asshole wanted, so he could give him something to leave Peter alone. “Like what?”

Nice Guy debated the question before asking his own, “Upcoming missions. Who are you guys taking down next?”

“I can’t answer that-- confidential. I don’t even know,” he made sure to clarify so the man knew Steve wasn't choosing to keep the information confidential; he honestly wasn’t trusted with it. 

“Confidential? Do I look stupid?” The anger was back and he was pushing Peter’s head closer to the water. 

“No, sir,” Steve said instantly, putting as much respect into his voice as he could. 

In a sick way, Steve knew the reaction he got. Nice Guy smiled. “Sir. I like it. Too bad it’s not an answer.” 

Before Steve could even blink, Peter’s head was shoved back into the ice violently. 

“No!” Steve yanked so hard on the chains, he felt them biting into his wrists.

“I need an answer!” The man yelled back, Peter still shoved under the water. 

“I don’t know!” Steve screamed, his voice louder as he watched Peter continue to struggle.

“I don’t believe you!”

One of Peter’s arms flew up and he blindly searched out the hand in his hair. He tried to untangle the hand from his curls, but he wasn’t able to. 

“Please!” Steve begged, his voice breaking as well as his heart. “He needs air--!” 

Playing dumb, he replied, “Does he? He’s still moving. Should we wait 'til he stops or until you tell me what I want to know?” 

“No-- please! I don’t know!” He screamed, unsure of how the terror that was surely obvious in his eyes didn’t clue Nice Guy to know he wasn’t lying. 

Nice Guy stared at Steve while Peter slowly stopped struggling, the hand fighting falling to the tub, limp. 

“Stop! Please let him up! He can’t breathe! Please!” Steve cried out desperately _. It was too much. Too much. His son was going to drown. Going to die. Right in front of him. And Steve could do nothing but watch.  _

Nice Guy waited a second before lifting him up. Steve held his breath until Peter took his. He gasped out, coughing harshly as water sputtered from his mouth. He was soaked from the shoulders up and there was a new gash in his forehead, bleeding steadily from his head being slammed too hard into the bucket. Steve didn’t let his shoulders slump in relief until he saw Peter’s eyes flutter open and stay half-lidded “See? He’s okay. He’s breathing,” Nice Guy pointed out.

“Please…” Steve whispered, not sure why he was even begging anymore. 

Peter was shivering and he let out a little whimper. “Pa..papa…” 

“How cute,” he cooed patronizingly. 

“I-- I can’t-- answer you…” 

“Then we seem to be in a tough spot, huh? How else can we get this to stop? Any ideas?” 

“Just let him go…”

Nice Guy shook his head. “See...it just can’t be that easy…” He suddenly smiled. “You know what? I have a good idea.” Nice Guy took a strong hold of Peter’s hair again and lifted his head so he was staring at Steve. "Ask him why, Pete.” 

Peter could barely focus on what was going on around him; he looked too occupied with trying to get the water from his lungs. He shivered violently as he asked, “W-What?”

“Ask him why he’s letting this happen,” the man said, not letting Peter move. “Ask him why he let you get hurt.” 

Peter shook his head furrowing his brow. “He-- didn’t...let me...get hurt…” 

Nice Guy smiled. “Really? So that ice water didn’t burn like hell in your lungs?” Peter’s whimper was enough for an answer for them all to know how much it hurt. “Ask him why he let you get hurt.”

“N-no..” Peter said, shaking his head.

“Hear that? He said no...you think he wants to go back under?” Nice Guy asked Steve.

“Please don’t--no!” Steve wasn’t sure he could even survive another dunk like that last one. 

“I’m not asking much, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering Peter’s head towards the water. 

“Stop!” Steve screamed, eyes widening. 

Nice Guy shrugged his shoulders. “He just has to ask you why.”

“I can’t...” Peter whimpered.

“Then I guess that leaves one option, huh?” His disinterest turned to glee as he plunged Peter back in.

”No!” 

“Then you better make sure he asks when I pull him back up,” Nice Guy warned.

Steve couldn’t take his eyes off of Peter, who was struggling as much as he could. Which wasn’t much. “Stop! Please! Pull him up!” 

“I think I like you better when you beg. Then  _ maybe _ I’ll change my mind.” 

Steve didn’t have time for his sick games-- no,  _ Peter  _ didn’t have the time for his sick games. “Please! My, God, just please!”

Nice Guy was laughing by the time he finally pulled him back up. “Here he is. All okay. Don’t worry.” 

Peter coughed once, water dribbling from his mouth and down his chin. “Please st-stop…”

“Just ask him and it’s over.”

“I...I can’t...” Peter argued. Half conscious and still unbelievably self-sacrificing. 

“Pete...it’s alright,” Steve told him, wishing for once he would just listen. Just put himself first for once and do whatever he needed to to stay safe. 

“I.. I don’t mean...it...” Peter said between his deep breaths. 

“Pete..”

“Ask. Him.” Nice Guy tightened his grip in Peter’s curls hard enough to make him gasp out in pain.

Peter finally asked, “Wh--why did you...let him...hurt me..?” And even though he knew Peter was being forced to ask the question, it hurt because the words were true. Steve was letting them hurt him. 

Steve could only stare guilty at Peter, unable to say a word. Nice Guy spoke up for him. “Give him an answer, Captain.” 

Steve blinked, pulling back slightly. “Wha--?”

Nice Guy narrowed his eyes. “Answer your boy. Do you want me to make him repeat it?”

God, no. Steve didn’t want to make this any harder on Peter than it needed it to be. “No-- I...I’m sorry-- I’m not-- strong enough. I should’ve protected you-- I should’ve done more-- Pete, I’m sorry...I’m so sorry--.” 

Throughout his stuttered apology, Peter shook his head. Even through all of the water dripping on his face, he could still see the two trails of tears falling down his cheeks. 

“See, that wasn’t so hard? Now it’s all over.” Steve wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but before he could, he let go of Peter’s curls. He seemed to fall in slow motion, splashing into the water and too weak to push himself out. 

“Get him out,” Steve snapped.

“Get him out?”

Correcting himself, he added, “Please.”

That was all Nice Guy needed to hear before he was pushing over the tub. Peter fell to the ground in a heap, as the ice water spilled around him. There was so much ice and water creating a puddle for Peter to lay in. “You want him?” 

Steve stared down at him with wide eyes, nodding. He continued to watch in horror as Nice Guy bent down, grabbed a handful of Peter’s hair and drag him over. Peter couldn’t do much more than make a sound of pain, his hands scrambling underneath him to try and lift his body off the cement. It didn’t work. He dropped Peter just out of Steve’s reach with a smile. “Food will be here shortly. We’re done for tonight.” 

They left without another word and all Steve could hear was the chattering of Peter’s teeth. 

Steve reached a hand out, trying to reach his baby as he lay there, unmoving. 

Peter must have heard the rattle of the chains and said, “N-no...st-stay back.” 

“Peter--.” 

Peter interrupted him with a stutter as he shivered. “C-cold.”

Steve huffed in frustration. “I don’t care-- Peter, please.” 

And of course, Peter cared more about Steve than himself. “Don’t wanna make you cold.” 

He never hated these chains more than now. Being so close but so far from having his boy in arms. “I’m okay, but you need to be warmed up. Please. Let me.” 

And he did. He  _ needed  _ to be warmed up. He couldn’t do it himself. Tony had mentioned it once to Steve that because of the spider bite, Peter’s body could no longer thermoregulate. If it got cold, it would stay that way on its own. 

Peter lifted his head, his curls wet and clinging to his head. He didn’t move though.

“Please,” Steve tried once more. 

It finally broke through to Peter and he let out a whimper before crawling to Steve. He was going as fast as he could with his shaky limbs, but it was still too slow. 

“Come here, baby,” Steve encouraged as Peter finally got to his side. He pulled him into his arms, not caring how cold he was. “I’ve got you. It’s okay. I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry.” 

Peter clung onto Steve and he was so cold it burned. He mumbled, “Don’t-- not your fault…”

Steve pulled him close and cradled his boy gently. He didn’t care that the kid was freezing and making Steve cold. He just cared that Peter was wet, freezing, shivering, and still coughing up water. 

Steve tried not to think of all the possible outcomes of this: hypothermia, pneumonia, dry drowning...he wasn’t even safe after the waterboarding was over. 

Peter tried to push against him. “Don’ wanna...hur’ you…’oo cold,” he slurred. 

Steve held him tighter. Yes he was starting to get chilled himself and he  _ abhorred  _ the cold, but if it helped warm Peter up even a little, he didn’t care if he froze all over again. 

Peter squirmed in his hold, sticking his face into his neck for the warmth. Steve hissed when he felt Peter’s nose pressed against his skin. “I’m sorry,” he heard his muffled whisper. 

“Don’t-- oh God-- please don’t be sorry. You did nothing wrong, sweetie.” Steve knew Peter was really out of it when he didn’t even relax at  _ sweetie.  _ That nickname never failed to get him to smile. Except now. 

Peter kept talking, “I didn’t mean it...not your fault.”

Steve went quiet, knowing there was nothing he could say to get Peter to listen. He just held him close as Peter mumbled a few broken apologies. He quieted down a moment before whispering, “Papa...I wanna go home.” 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “I know...me too. We’re gonna get home. I promise.” 

“How much longer?”

Steve wished he had an answer for him. “I dunno…”

There was a sound of the door creaking open and Peter flinched in his arms, holding him tighter. Steve leaned over him protectively and looked towards the door where he saw Missy walk in with their tray of food and a towel.

She paused just in front of them, looking down. Unlike her male counterpart, she never looked to be pleased with their pain. Her pleasure came from her own achievements. When she had to clean up the other man’s messes, she was always a bit frustrated. She dropped the towel and Steve hurried to grab it before it hit the ground. It wasn’t a soft and fluffy towel, but it was something to help dry Peter. He immediately wrapped it around him, rubbing it over him. He focused mainly on drying his hair because his mother always warned him about getting sick from a “wet head”.

“He’s still choking up water,” Steve said without looking up at her, still rubbing the towel over Peter as he leaned into the warmth.

“Well, he’s not going to a hospital, so you better hope he gets over it.”

Steve gritted his teeth because how the hell was Peter just supposed to get over the water in his lungs?  _ Dry drowning. Secondary drowning.  _ “Well, you better tell your friend that if he’s not careful, he could easily lose his only leverage.”

Missy didn’t answer that, moving on as she put the tray on the ground. “Food. I bet he’s pretty hungry since you ate all his food last night. But he doesn’t seem to be in the mood to eat, huh?”

Steve looked up to glare, still holding Peter tight. 

She seemed to take his silence as an answer. “You’re right. He’s probably not in the mood to eat,” she shrugged her shoulders. “I can hold him while you do.” She didn’t outwardly grin like the man always did when taunting them. Her face rarely changed from it’s stoic disinterest. But that didn’t make her any less amused by their misfortune. 

At the mention of leaving Steve’s arms, Peter whimpered in his ear. Steve tightened his hold even though he could barely hold him any tighter. He shook his head, not moving any other way. 

Missy smiled. “I’ll leave you to it then. See you tomorrow, boys.” With one last wave, she was out the door, leaving them alone again. Hopefully, this time for good.

Steve just sat there, holding Peter close to his chest, not wanting to let go any time soon.

Peter broke the silence a few moments later. His voice was lethargic, but Steve was just glad his teeth weren’t chattering so violently “Am I making you cold?” 

Ever since winter started, Peter and Tony had been insistent on  _ always  _ ensuring that Steve was as warm as he could possibly be. For once, Steve wanted Peter to just forget about it. “It’s okay, hush, sweetie,” he said softly. 

“I didn’t--,” Peter paused to cough out more water. Steve patted him back until he stopped. “I shouldn’t have asked. Coulda taken it.” 

“No-- stop. No.”  _ No, you couldn’t. You would have died.  _ “I was the weak one. Not you.” 

“Stop. Please-- please,” Steve said.

“Better me than you,” Peter paused again to let out another loud cough. Steve winced. “Don’t want you cold.” 

“Stop...please-- please stop.”  _ And I don’t want you dead.  _

Peter seemed to catch the panic to his voice. “I’m sorry.”

Steve kissed his head. 

“Can you hold me tonight?” Peter asked quietly, like Steve holding him would make it all better. Steve wished it was that easy. Or maybe he wished Peter didn’t have such a strong amount of blind faith in him.

Steve nodded but asked in return, “Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm?” Peter hummed weakly.

“Can you eat?” He phrased it as a question to avoid giving Peter another command to follow, but there was no option for Peter. Steve was going to make sure he ate it whether he wanted to or not.

“I wanna sleep,” Peter answered snuggling his head where it rested on Steve’s shoulder. Steve didn’t know if it was possible hypothermia making his drowsy or the exhaustion that came with being nearly drowned. He didn’t even know if he was allowed to let him sleep in a situation like this.

But he did know that Peter needed to eat. “Can you try?”

“I can try,” Peter said after a moment of hesitation, reaching out to take hold of the fork. He was either too hungry or too tired to argue about who should get the food. He tried to lift the forkful of mush to his mouth, but he was shaking too much. Steve watched him struggle for only a moment before holding his hand over Peter’s to steady him. He helped him bring the fork to his mouth slowly and Peter ate it, making a satisfied hum

“I’m proud of you…” Steve told him as he continued to slowly take bite after bite.

Peter gave him a smile at the praise. “Thank you.” He took a few more bites before he moved their hands towards Steve instead of his mouth. He was offering him some of it. “S’warm,” he said, but Steve didn’t move to eat. “Just a bite.” 

Steve sighed before taking a bite. Peter smiled again and that sight alone was enough to make Steve went to take the next bite he offered. But then he remembered the woman’s words. She was right. He had eaten all of Peter’s food last night and he wasn’t about to do it again.“Eat more, bud…”

Peter hesitated before continuing with the help of Steve until he finished both plates. He didn't move to drink from the water, but Steve wasn’t surprised that Peter wasn’t itching to swallow more water. He probably swallowed more than enough for now. Once he finished, he leaned close to Steve.

They sat in a comfortable silence. Steve listened to Peter’s quiet wheezing as he breathed. He wasn't sure if he would have fallen asleep if he hadn't kept himself up with all the coughing.

Steve was in the middle of rubbing his back after a particularly long coughing fit when Peter whispered, “I’m scared for tomorrow.”

Steve went quiet. He didn’t want to tell him that he was scared as well. 

“I thought Dad would have found us by now…” Peter mumbled, his voice weak from the combination of everything that happened to him in the past hour or so. 

The words felt almost like a slap to the face. He knew Tony doing his best to bring them home; he just hoped Peter remembered it too. “We might be in a very discreet location. Who knows what’s going on. But I know one thing…” 

“What?”

“Dad won’t stop until he’s got us back home.” 

Peter nodded his head. “He’s probably going crazy with no sleep and all coffee.” When he spoke again, his voice cracked. “I miss him.” 

“Me too..” 

“This shouldn’t have happened.”

Steve couldn’t agree more. “No, it shouldn't have.” 

“I should have gone to school, saw Harry, and learned all about sharks, watched him at practice-- and then come home and have my after-school nap with Dad and then find you in your studio to tell you all about the sharks.”

Steve stayed quiet, listening to Peter sniffle once or twice when his voice broke. 

“I didn’t know-- I  _ should _ have known. But I didn't. ..and now-- why is he doing this? Why can’t he just let us go? It’s not fair. It’s not fair! I just wanna go home.” 

Steve hugged him tightly when he started to freak out. If Steve let him go, he could easily work himself up into a panic attack.

Peter clung back to the hug, his voice growing from angry to terrified. “I don’t want them-- I don’t want them to hurt me again. And I don’t want them to hurt you either.” 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, unsure of what to say. How is he supposed to respond to his son being afraid because he was going to be tortured. Again. “I know…” 

“At least I can talk to you tonight,” Peter said. Steve nodded, sick to his stomach that  _ that  _ was a plus. To Peter, they may have been kidnapped and chained to a wall, waiting for their next round of torture, but hey, at least he didn't have a muzzle strapped around his mouth like he was a dog.

“I’ll behave better...so he doesn’t get so mad,” Peter whispered. Steve was so tired of other other people telling  _ his  _ boy how to act. So many people that had no business in doing so were quick to punish Peter for his “misbehaving”. Peter wasn't a bad kid. He wasn't a brat. In Steve’s eyes, he was the best son he could have asked for and he despised everyone that made Peter doubt it.

“I’m sorry,” seemed like the best thing to tell him.

“Why?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Steve shrugged his shoulders. Where did he even start with everything he was sorry for? “That you’ve got to go through this.”

“So do you. And you’ve had to go through it before. It’s not your fault I’m joining you this time,” Peter replied, honestly sounding not one bit upset by it.

“But it’s different,” Steve insisted because he couldn't understand. He wouldn't understand until he had a kid of his own.

“Why?” 

“You’re...you. My son...a kid..” A child. Peter may go out and risk his life as a hero, but he was still a kid. To Steve and Tony, he was their baby. He still liked to cuddle with Tony after school; he still slept with Nonna’s blanket and the teddy bear Steve got him for Christmas; nothing excited him more than getting in his pajamas and watching Lilo and Stitch with Tony, Steve, and Harry all cozy in a pillow and blanket fort spread around the living room. 

So, yeah, his kid was the toughest he knew. He could handle his own and and then some, but he shouldn't need to. After everything he'd been through in his short life, he deserved a break to just be a kid. 

Because that's all he was. 

While Peter could be quite childlike sometimes in the safety of tower with Steve and Tony, now he was acting like nothing less of an adult. “It’s okay. We’re gonna get through it. Just like you always say: together.” He paused. “I mean-- I feel bad for saying this, but I'm kinda glad you’re here with me...not sure what I’d do if I were alone.” 

Steve nodded in agreement. Not because he was better off with Peter here but because he did not want Peter to be here by himself. 

“And I’m glad it was me today,” Peter said, despite the fact that he was still coughing and shivering. “You took it all yesterday-- and I saw you freeze up at the sight of the tub...not that I blame you. Water is kinda scary, huh?”

Steve gulped. There was so much to unpack in Peter’s rambles. Truthfully, Steve missed it last night when he couldn't talk and he was afraid that Peter was going to be more quiet, but he didn't seem to remember the conditioning when he was alone with Steve. 

But, Steve still hated it. He hated how Peter was looking at it. Like they were just taking shifts of torture. It killed Steve to see his son being treated like this and not be able to do a thing to stop it. 

How long was this going to last? How long was he going to continue to let his son down? Would they ever give Tony a demand to fulfill? Would they keep Steve and Peter until they got bored?

Steve didn't know and that scared him even more.


	5. day four

Tony didn't know if the video was still playing. He stopped focusing on the screen when he saw his son being dunked into a bucket of ice water. 

Tony knew of the pain that came with that. Some nights he still woke up drowning. That would never go away. 

Now Peter was going to carry that same burden.

He could still hear the water splashing and Peter choking and that man laughing. Even when it stopped, he could still hear it. 

He'd never forget the sounds. 

"Dad, c'mon," he heard another voice breaking through his panic. "You need to calm down." 

But Tony couldn't. That was impossible. They had his son. They were hurting him. They were torturing him. 

"Dad, it's gone. I shut it off." 

It was gone for them, but Peter was still going through it. It wasn't over for his baby. 

"Tony!" The same voice screamed louder, shaking him by the arms. 

Finally, he cleared out of the fog enough to recognize that voice. It was Harry. Harry hadn't called him Tony since he started living there with them. "Harry," Tony wheezed, unsure of what to say. 

Tony was looking for comfort. But how was a 17-year-old kid supposed to give him that? He was the adult. 

Still, Harry gave it to him anyway. He looked pale and his hands were shaking when he let go of Tony, but his voice was steady. "We're going to bring him home."

"T-they were drowning him," Tony said as if Harry didn't just watch his best friend choking on ice. "The water and the drowning--." 

"Don't think about it," Harry said after he flinched. "We can't stop it. Not that. But we're going to find him before they can hurt him more." 

How much more? How much more could any of them even take? 

Tony took a seat on the couch before his legs collapsed. He dropped his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. He snapped his eyes back open when the darkness gave him a replay of Peter struggling and thrashing as the man held him under water until he went limp. 

A sob escaped him and even when he covered his mouth with his hands, they were still loud. His shoulders began to shake harder when he realized he couldn't hold them back. 

"My baby," he cried, wishing Steve was here to make it better. To hold him and tell him it was all going to be okay. 

Instead, Harry sat down next to him and wrapped his arms around him. "Your baby is coming home soon. I promise. Both of them are." 

Tony wasn't so sure he believed that anymore.

\--

Peter woke up the next morning and he didn't say a word. Steve was still awake, of course, and he watched as Peter's eyes fluttered open. 

His hair was just barely damp curls now and his shivering had abated. Still, he clung tightly to Steve. Steve wasn't going to push him away. Ever. 

They stayed quiet together. Sometimes Peter's tired eyes would look up at Steve from where his head was pillowed in his lap and Steve would offer him a small smile. 

Sometime in the morning, Steve had started to play with Peter's hair as he laid there. He was running his fingers along his scalp, untangling curls, and just curling strands around his fingers. 

He was in the middle of brushing through his curls when Peter said, “Don’t you think it’s weird they didn’t chain me back up?” 

Steve froze his movements. “They didn’t?”

“No, they dragged me over and left. I haven’t moved from you since.” Peter didn't even look ready to move after sharing the information. 

“You’re free. Right now--.” He grabbed Peter’s wrists to check and it was true. The chains were on the ground, leaving Peter free. 

“Yeah. Free as in no chains.”

“Pete, you can go,” Steve said, sitting up straighter. 

“What-- no.”

Steve nodded his head, finally feeling the hope grow in his chest. “You can!”

“No--no...what if the door is locked?” Peter asked anxiously as he pushed himself up.

“Go see what kind of lock...maybe we can pick it.” Steve gave him a little shove towards the door. 

Peter didn't look like he wanted to leave Steve's side, but Steve kept giving him a look until finally he relented. “O-okay…” Peter hesitated once again before walking over to the door on shaky legs. His hand hovered over the knob for a moment before he took it in his hand and twisted it open. 

“It’s unlocked…” Steve said in disbelief.

“Yeah.” Peter shut it and came back to Steve's side. “I can get you out.”

“You can certainly try, but if you can’t, remember you promised.” Peter wasn’t going to be able to get him out. Steve couldn’t break it even a bit. 

“You said it was a last resort,” Peter said.

“I know.”

Peter thankfully didn’t argue and kneeled down by Steve. He took his wrists in his hands, looking over the chains around his wrists. Missy definitely did a good job with them. "I mean there’s...I don’t know...I could try. Figure something out I just don’t have anything, but I’ll try. l'm not going without you,” Peter muttered under his breath.

“You might have to,” Steve said, hoping Peter wasn’t going to argue this again.

“Please don’t make me!” Peter tried to break the cuffs off of Steve’s wrist by pulling them apart. “I should be-- I’m not strong enough,” he grunted in frustration. “I need-- they barely feed us. I should be able to do this.”

Steve sensed his voice close to breaking with with hysteria. “Hey-- hey. Pete…”

Peter looked up at him with teary eyes. “What?”

“It’s gonna be okay. Go. I’ll get out. I promise you.” He tried to muster a small smile for Peter.

The tears started to leak from the corner of his eyes. “What if you don’t? I can’t leave you behind. I can’t-- they’ll hurt you. I can’t do it.”

Steve knew if it was up to Peter, he would never leave Steve’s side. “Yes, you can. I’ll be fine. Trust me. Just go. Peter, please.”

“Papa…” Peter said moving his hands from the cuffs to squeeze Steve’s hands. 

“Go,” Steve said with a strong voice, hoping he would just leave. Because he would love to pull Peter close and keep him safe by his side until they were home, but keeping Peter here when he could leave wasn’t keeping him safe. Not when he could escape.

“But--.”

“Go,” Steve said, giving him a small smile. “I love you so much.”

Peter was crying steadily as he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. “I’m gonna get help. If you can’t get out, I’m going to get you help. I promise. I love you, Papa. So much.”

“I love you too.” Peter pulled back but didn’t move. “Go, buddy.”

Peter begrudgingly left his side to go to the door. Before opening the door, he looked back in hesitation. 

“I love you,” Steve told him and then he was gone and Steve was alone. “Please, God,” he whispered up to the ceiling. “Let him get out safe. Please.”

His prayer fell on deaf ears. As did most of his prayers the past few days. 

  
  


Steve wasn't sure how much time passed, but far too soon, Mister Nice Guy came storming in, slamming the door open and it made a loud noise causing Steve to flinch. He was angry. He wasn’t so nice when he was angry. “You know-- I thought-- I thought you two would have learned.”

Steve tensed up. Did he know Peter was gone before coming into the room?

Mister Nice Guy paused in front of him. “I asked you a question yesterday. Do you think I’m stupid? You told me no. But now you do this shit?”

Unlike Peter, Steve knew how to answer a captor when they were pissed without making them more pissed. “I don’t think you’re stupid, sir.”

“Oh, really?” Mister Nice Guy nodded his head and the disbelief was dripping from his voice. “Uh huh...so tell me then, where’s your boy?”

Steve hesitated before answering simply, “...gone.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“...no.”

And just like that, the anger was replaced with a sick smile. “Oh, that’s good. I think I can help you with that answer.”

The realization sunk in like a stone and he knew he couldn’t hide it from his face. 

The man noticed this and it only made him happier. “Did you think he was left unchained accidentally? With an unlocked door? That’s how  _ stupid  _ you think I am?”

Steve was quiet.

Mister Nice Guy continued, “He’s fast, I’ll give your brat that. Too bad we’re faster.”

The word brat was always enough to ignite a fury of anger in Steve, but the worry of not knowing if Peter was okay or not beat it out. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”

An eerie calm settled in his eyes. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

One of the big men came in holding a knife to Peter’s throat. 

Of course Peter wasn’t going to keep his mouth shut. Even with a blade to his throat. “I’m sorry, Pops! They knew--!”

Mister Nice Guy snapped, “Shut up!” 

“Don’t hurt him!” Steve shouted, afraid of what the man would do on an angry impulse. 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t. Because I’m angry and I’m not a nice guy when I’m angry.”

“Why did you take him in the first place?” Steve asked. 

Mister Nice Guy frowned. “You mean why did we follow him to school every day, waiting for the right time to pick him up?”

Steve gritted his teeth, ignoring the bait to get him angry knowing that these monsters stalked his kid everyday on the way to school. “Yes.”

“Because he’s the only reason you’re behaving,” he said, his upper lip quirking up in a small grin.

“Then there you go.”

It still didn’t get through the man’s thick skull, unsurprisingly. The girl had all the brains in this operation. He had the crazy. “What are you talking about?”

“You said to give you a reason. There’s your reason. Don’t hurt him and I’ll continue to behave,” Steve promised. 

“Really? I mean...I thought you understood that,” Mister Nice Guy said. “You don’t behave and lessons need to be learned..and yet, you let him leave.” He paused and when he spoke up again, his voice getting louder and louder as he continued, “Maybe you need a little reminder that I will hurt him if you continue to act like this!”

Steve froze, fear growing. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re both getting a lesson tonight,” he said like he was a parent punishing his children.

Steve glanced at Peter and only looked away when the man walked closer in front of him.

“My friends say I’m a nice guy and we’ve spent so much time together, I really think you can agree. So, I’m going to be fair. This is only your first lesson, so I’ll go easy on you.” Then he walked to Peter and tapped his nose once. Peter scrunched his face in annoyance. “But you...this is your third lesson.” He shook his head in disappointment. “I’m really tired of you misbehaving...so I don’t think you’re going to enjoy tonight’s punishment.”

He turned from Peter and Steve could see the fear in Peter’s eyes. Then, he faced Steve and smiled. “Ready for your lesson, Captain?”

Steve knew he couldn’t get out of it. They had the higher power and no matter how they hurt him, he’d just grit his teeth through the pain. He sighed and nodded his head. 

Mister Nice Guy’s face lit up in a smile and he clapped his hands together. “I’m glad we’re back on the same page!” Then he turned back to the brute holding Peter. “Not anywhere too bad-- remember we’re being nice.”

It happened so quick. One second the other man was just holding Peter and then the next second, he was plunging the knife into Peter’s stomach. Peter gasped in pain, leaning over too, but he was pulled back up by his hair. 

Steve flinched, trying to lunge forward but chains held him back.

“See...this is what happens when you don’t listen. Do you understand now, Captain?”

Steve nodded, his eyes on the growing stain of red on Peter’s shirt. His favorite  _ Star Wars  _ shirt. 

“What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

“I understand, sir.”

“Good.” The knife was pulled from Peter’s stomach and he gasped in pain again. “We’ll be back soon to give him his punishment. Have fun.” They threw Peter unceremoniously to the ground before leaving them alone. 

Unlike yesterday when they dropped Peter to the ground, at least he wasn’t half-conscious. He was in pain from the stab wound, no doubt, but he was coherent. Peter was facing him as he laid there and Steve waited for his eyes to open before he motioned him to come closer. They had to staunch the bleeding.

“Sh--shoulda ran faster.” Peter groaned, covering his stab wound with his hands.

“Stop that. Don’t. And let me see.” Steve said, getting anxious because he couldn’t see how bad it was when he was over there. 

“I’m okay...s’little scratch.”

Steve rolled his eyes at the painfully obvious lie. “No, it’s not. Let me see.”

Peter carefully pulled himself over to Steve, wincing with each movement. The second he was close enough, Steve pulled Peter closer in his arms. His poor baby. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get out. They were waiting.”

“Can I see it? Lemme see,” Steve said, still holding Peter close, but looking down at his stomach where the blood was still slowly seeping out. 

“It’s not that bad.”

Steve wasn’t in the mood for Peter to play hero. “Peter, you got stabbed. Show me.” While Peter lifted his shirt, Steve ripped off a piece of his own to make a little rag. Peter pulled his hands away, wincing.

“Thank you,” Steve said, inspecting the wound. It didn’t look too bad and didn’t look like anything major was knicked. Still, Steve knew it was still just as painful, so he ensured he dabbed at it extra carefully.

“My favorite shirt,” he muttered. 

“I know, bud. We’ll get you a new one,” Steve told him, continuing to clean as much of the blood off his stomach as he could. 

Peter tried not to make any noise of pain as Steve worked. “I’m sorry for making you do this.”

“Hush, it’s okay,” Steve said softly. 

“Do you have to?” Peter whined.

Steve paused, looking up at him. “Have to what…?”

“Touch it. That-- it kinda hurts,” Peter said, wincing. 

“I’ll be as gentle as possible. Deep breaths.” Steve pressed against it knowing it would hurt but also knowing he needed to get pressure on it. He had to stop it somehow. 

God finally seemed to answer his prayers because just as he was thinking of he couldn’t get the wound to stop bleeding, the door slammed open and in walked Missy. Steve could tell she was upset before she even opened her mouth. “He stabbed him? Seriously?”

Steve pulled Peter closer to himself as she walked closer. He eyed her and she answered, “Yeah.”

“I’m dealing with morons.” She squatted by them and tugged Peter closer by his shirt. Well, she tried, but Steve refused to let him budge. “Oh, calm down. I want to see how bad it is.”

“I don’t need your help to see if my son’s okay. Seeing as you’re a reason he’s hurt in the first place.” Steve narrowed his eyes. 

She returned the glare. “Then let him bleed out. But, I think we can agree we both need him alive.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like you care about his well being. Or else, you would have let us go days ago.”

“Never said I did, darling. But without the brat, we have nothing against you. Can’t lose our precious goods.”

Peter was precious. One of the most precious things in Steve’s life. “I have a feeling you and I have a different definition of precious.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. We’ve got the same goal here, so take this.” She shoved a small sewing kit in his hands. Hope you know how to stitch him up good. Just like a doll. Except noiser.”

“That’s because he’s a human being. A child.” Steve knew the first thing to do when dealing with kidnappers and the like was to remind them that he’s a human. He was trying so hard for these people to understand Peter was just a kid. They didn’t seem to care.

“Then you better stitch him up before he loses anymore blood.” She stood up and looked down at them without that previous frustration. “And I’d do it before they come back.” She left, slamming the door behind her.

Peter eyed the pocket sized sewing kit and said, “I have quick healing. Just let it be.”

Steve blinked, staring at his stomach. “Peter-- you’re bleeding out.”

“I’ll just-- please-- it’ll stop.”

“Pete...It’s okay,” Steve said, knowing Peter was probably remembering the same Steve was. The night that past summer Peter came back to the tower with a gunshot wound and the bullet still inside. Steve was the one that had to fish the bullet out and then stitch him up. Tony gave him a towel to bite down on and still, Steve could hear his screams. Luckily, this didn’t involve sticking anything in the wound and he didn’t have the alcohol to sterilize the wound out with either. So, it shouldn’t be too painful for Peter. 

Peter eyed the small box before sighing heavily, “Just get it over with.”

“Deep breath,” he told him as he started to open the box and thread a string through the needle. “Ready?” 

Peter was laying straight on the ground with his eyes shut. “As ready as I’ll ever be…”

Steve started stitching the needle through Peter’s skin and began to close it up. He hated how dangerous this was. Peter’s wound wasn’t flushed and who knew what was on the knife he was stabbed with. The needle and thread weren’t close to being sterile. This was an infection waiting to happen. Still, the risk of infection was better than letting him bleed out. 

Peter bit his lip to stay quiet, but Steve could hear his grunts of pain still. “I’m sorry, bud…”

“I-It’s okay,” Peter said even though it was far from okay. He shouldn’t have to suffer through being stitched up with a thread and needle, locked away in some cold room that only God knows where. 

“I’m working as fast as I can,” he told him after a particularly pained whimper.

Peter nodded his head, hesitating before he could answer, “I know. You’re okay. Thank you.”

His son should be thanking him for making him plate full of his favorite pancakes, not for stitching him up. “Of course.”

He must have hurt him a little too much because Peter suddenly grabbed Steve’s arm. He didn’t squeeze it though. 

“Go ahead and squeeze, Pete,” Steve said softly. “I know it hurts.”

Peter’s eyes were squeezed shut and Steve could see the tears dripping down his temples. “Don’t wanna hurt you or mess you up.”

_ You were the one stabbed,  _ Steve wanted to argue. “You’re okay.”

Peter immediately started squeezing. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“Will do.”  _ I won’t. _

Peter squeezed hard. 

“I’m almost done,” Steve reassured him. “Just hang in there.”

“I’m good. It’s fine.”

Steve always saw Peter as his baby bear, no matter that he was 16-years-old. He’d be 46-years-old and he’d still see him as his baby. Nothing was going to change that. But now, watching him try so hard to stay quiet through the pain, he seemed even younger than he usually did. “I’m proud of you. You’re doing so good. Just hang in there a little longer.”

“My fault anyway--.” Peter hissed in pain, “for getting caught.”

“Stop.”

“I didn’t want to leave you, but maybe if I left sooner…”

Steve narrowed his eyes, repeating, “Stop.”

“Now we’ve gotta wait for my lesson and...your lesson was hurting me so that means…” he trailed off, fear evident in his voice. 

“Peter, I said stop,” Steve told him sternly. “What happened happened and what will happen will come, but right now…”

“Because it’s my third time,” Peter said, his voice breaking, “You’re gonna get hurt because of me.”

“Stop it-- it’s not because of you. If anything, it’s because of me. I shouldn’t have told you to go-- They’re right. That was stupid. I should’ve thought. Of course they wouldn't have done all that by accident. I should’ve-- I should’ve known. And now-- you got stabbed, Peter. Because of  _ me _ . Whatever comes for me, I deserve it. I did this.” 

Peter’s eyes shot open “Pops, you can’t say that-- it wasn’t your fault. I’m the one with the spidey senses. I should have done something. And now-- you’re gonna--.”

“Peter-- stop it--.”

“Because of me,” Peter said, voicing his own guilt complex.

They weren’t going to change each other’s minds. Steve was going to continue blaming himself just like Peter was going to continue blaming himself. “Just stop. Drop it.”

“He said he was being nice to you for this! I don't want him hurting you more!” Peter said, of course, never one for listening

“Peter, please--.” He paused as he finally finished stitching up the wound. “...there. All finished. That should hold for the time being.” 

While Steve was inspecting his work to make sure he did it as best as he could, he could just barely hear Peter mumble, “Won’t matter much anyway.”

“What was that?” Steve looked up at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Nothing-- it doesn’t matter,” Peter said, trying to brush him off.

Steve wasn’t going to let it go. “What?”

Peter hesitated. “You said it’ll hold for the time being-- when you don’t even know how long that is. And if it does, it doesn’t matter because they’ll come and beat me again some other way. So why does it matter?”

Steve couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his son’s mouth. “So you can live…”

“I can live, but you deserve to take it all instead?” Peter argued.

“Take what?”

Peter tried to sit up, but Steve put a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. “Everything! You don’t eat so I can. You think you deserve whatever they’re going to do to you.”

Steve clenched his jaw, taking a deep breath before telling him, “Peter I would die for you in a heartbeat. To know that you can get out of here? No hesitation from me. If they gave me that option, you’d be a free man.”

“But what about me? Why can’t I feel the same way for you? I’d die for you. I’d take every beating for you,” Peter said, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Because I’ve been here for 100 years. I’ve done my time. I’ve done good things. I’ve done the best that I can. I’ve lived the best life I could. Peter, you’re 16. You have greatness. You have Harry. You need that. You need to experience what life has.” Steve had to pause a moment to swallow past the lump in his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was close to breaking, “Peter, you will do great things. It’s not a matter of when. I know you will do such amazing things. And this world cannot miss out on it. Peter, I’ve done what I can. The world hasn’t seen what Peter Parker-Rogers-Stark can do.” 

“Well, that’s not fair. The world may have had you for a 100 years. But I’ve barely had one.”

Steve closed his eyes, calming himself. Peter just couldn’t take his speech? He still had to argue? “And it’s been the best year of my life, Peter.”

“I know I can do great things,” Peter said. “Look who I’ve got for role-models.” He gave him a small smile but it disappeared soon after. “But I don’t want to do it all without you. I want you to be there...when I graduate high school and then college and marry Harry and have kids and save all the sharks. I want my papa there.”

Steve felt his eyes burning. “I will be there. Peter, you know that I want to be there. I want to see this greatness come to life. I do. But I’m saying, if it comes down to it...I won’t hesitate to give up my life for you. But know that even if that happens, I’ll still be with you. Through it all.”

Those words broke the dams in Peter’s eyes as he let out a sob. “I want you here. I don't want them to take you away from me. I love talking to Nonna, but I want you to  _ meet  _ your grandkids. I don’t want them to visit your grave and leave a stupid photo-- I just want you safe. And alive.”

Steve brushed his hair back as he said softly, “I know. I do too. But if it came down to it…”

“Please don’t--.” Peter shot up suddenly to wrap his arms around Steve tightly. Steve held him back, not as tightly, keeping his wound in mind so he didn’t hurt him anymore. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with tears. 

“I love you too, bear.”

“Am I interrupting something?” A voice asked, sounding amused. 

Steve turned to glare at the man standing by the now open door. He must have been too caught up with Peter to hear it open.

“Alright. Alright. Separate them,” Mister Nice Guy told the two men behind him. “Put the boy back in his chains.” Steve wanted to hold on tight to Peter so they’d need to really try to get Peter from him, but he didn’t want to upset Peter’s stitches in the struggle. So he let them pull Peter away, hoping Peter didn’t fight them. 

Once he was chained back to the wall, Mister Nice Guy crouched down and pulled up Peter’s shirt. He poked at the skin around the stitches, making Peter wince. “Good job you did there.”

Steve glared at him. 

Mister Nice Guy ruffled Peter’s hair, bright smile on his face. “Ready for your lesson, kiddo?”

“Don’t hurt him.”

The man paused, his hand still in Peter’s hair. “What was that?”

“Please don’t hurt him, sir,” Peter whispered.

“Sorry, bud,” he said, faux sympathy in his voice. “But you know you need your lesson.” He pulled out his fist with the brass knuckles again.

Peter grabbed the man’s hand in his, holding it as he begged. “Please no! Please, sir. Please, I’ll behave.”

Mister Nice Guy looked down at the hand over his before brushing Peter’s hand away. “Captain, get your boy to shut up or we’ll have a repeat of last time.”

Steve knew Peter would risk that damn muzzle all over again if it meant keeping Steve from being hurt. “Peter, hush. It’s fine.”

“They’re gonna hurt you!”

_ Sure, they are. But I deserve it.  _ “It’s fine.”

“Pops--.”

“Keep talking, kid. I dare you,” Mister Nice Guy interrupted him. “See if you like what happens.”

Peter finally shut his mouth, staring at Steve.

The man patted Peter’s head, practically cooing, “Good boy.” Then he stood up and made his way to Steve. The excitement in his eyes only grew. “Now for you...I’m sorry for this. I really am. But your boy needs to learn.”

Then the beating started. 

Mister Nice Guy started beating him, one of the other men happy to help while the other held Peter back. Through the sound of all kicks and punches, Steve could clearly hear Peter screaming out, “Please stop! You’re hurting him!”

For once, no one went to quiet Peter. It was almost as if the more Peter cried, the more excited Mister Nice Guy got with his kicks. Steve was on the ground, hands over his head to protect himself as best as could while the steel toed boots came raining down. 

Peter never stopped yelling for them to stop. Not even long enough to take a breath. “I’ll behave! Stop-- you’re going to kill him!”

The kicks and punches stopped long enough for a hand to wrap around his throat. He was lifted off the ground until his toes could barely brush against the cold cement. Steve gasped, bringing up his own hands to try and pry the grip from his neck. It didn’t budge.

Mister Nice Guy wasn’t the one holding him up, but he said, “Anything you want to say to him, Pops? Not sure the next time you’ll get the chance.”

Steve did his best to focus on Peter. His vision was starting to blackout from both the beating and lack of oxygen. He wasn’t sure if this was really going to be the last moment he had with Peter, but if it was, he wanted to remember him. Even if Peter was sobbing while being held back from him by his curls, Steve was still going to savor seeing him one more time. And if it really was his last breath, he wanted Peter to know, “It’s fine-- love you, son.”

_ Son.  _ Because he wanted Peter to know he was his son. Maybe not biologically and maybe not for long. But Peter was his son. The best damn son he could have ever asked for. 

“Pops!” He heard Peter scream as the hand tightened. His vision slowly turned darker until it was black and Peter’s cries went silent. 

Steve wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of dying before Peter was safe. 

\--

Peter wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of living without Pops. 

Watching the giant of a man lift his Pops into the air had his heart racing. He watched as Pops’ face slowly turned more and more red. He was wheezing painfully.

Peter blinked his eyes furiously, expelling the tears overwhelming his eyes so his vision wasn’t as blurry. “Nononono,” he said all in one breath. “Papa! You’re gonna kill him! Stop!” His lips weren’t supposed to be blue. 

“I guess we’ll have to see how strong your Papa is.”

“No! Please!” He sobbed, begging desperately. 

Pops’ face was a dark shade of red, his lips blue. Peter watched his eyes roll to the back of his head before his body went limp in the man’s hold. The man laughed as he dropped Pops and he hit the ground like a sack of bricks. 

Peter stared at him with wide eyes, the sobs taking over. He couldn’t breathe. But did he even want to if Pops wasn’t?

He couldn’t do this without Pops. 

Just the thought terrified him.

The man that seemed to be running this, the one that was always smiling, kicked Pops out of his way as he walked past to get to Peter. “See that? That’s what happens when you don’t listen. So, I’d be on my best behavior next time, okay, bud?” He reached a hand out to ruffle Peter’s hair, but Peter threw himself to the ground before he could. He didn’t want the hand that just beat his Pops anywhere near him. The man glared down at him like he was surprised. “Fine. Be that way. Food will be here soon. We’ve got a lot of fun for tomorrow. With or without your Pops.”

Peter crawled over to Pops as they walked out of the room. He could hear them laughing as he muttered to himself, “Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa.” When he reached him, the first thing he did was fix him into a more natural position. He pulled his arm from underneath him and cradled his head in his lap carefully. “C’mon, Papa, you gotta get up.” He shook his shoulder gently. “They’re gone now. You can get up.” His voice broke. “You gotta wake up. You promised you’d try your best-- you weren’t gonna leave me. You promised you were gonna get us out.” Peter could barely catch his breath through his panicking. “You know what a promise means...you meant what you said, you said what you meant…”

Peter waited. But he didn’t finish it.

“You better finish that when you wake up,” Peter told him tearfully. “Because you’re going to wake up.” Right?

Quickly, Peter felt Pops’ neck for a heartbeat and let out a sigh of relief when he felt it beating against his fingertips weakly. “It’s okay, Papa,” he whispered. “My turn to take care of you now.” Using the hem of his t-shirt, he started to wipe the blood off of Pops’ face. Once he was as clean as he could get him, Peter repositioned himself so he was laying down next to Pops. Just like any other night he snuggled with Pops, he pressed his ear to his chest. He didn’t relax until the steady beating of Pops’ heart filled his ear.

“I love you Papa,” he whispered, unable to even fall asleep when he felt his heart thumping against his cheek. He just laid there, crying quietly and hiccuping every so often after a small sob. 

He was still laying there, exhausted but restless, when he heard the door opening again. And that never meant anything good was happening. He lifted his head up from Pops’ chest and turned towards the door with a glare. He was glad he didn’t see the man back in here, but he wasn’t thrilled to see his sister either. 

“Cut it out. I’m just here to bring you food.” She tried glancing over his shoulder to see Pops, but he moved in the way of her view and growled. “Calm down, Lassie.”

“Stay away from him.” 

She kneeled down and placed the plate of food on the floor. Tilting her head she said, “Well, this is a changeup. Usually, he’s the one growling over you. He sleeping?” 

Like she didn’t know what that man did to him. He hardened his glare. “Go away.” 

She didn’t go away and only repositined herself so she could see Pops. Then something in her face changed. “Did Felix do that?” She was up on her feet swiftly and coming closer. 

Peter panicked and did his best to cover Pops’ head. That was the worst spot she could hit him now. “Get away!” His voice cracked, but his stance didn’t waver. 

“I’m not going to hurt him, kid.” 

Peter didn’t believe her. “Stay away!” 

She rolled her eyes and shoved Peter to the side. She shouldn’t have been able to move him. His strength would have never allowed that. But now, without enough food or water, he felt as weak as he once was before the spider bite. He got right back up and tried to grab her hand before she could touch him. 

But her touch was gentle as she checked his pulse and the gashes that split his skin in several places. 

Peter paused and hoped for once, maybe he’d have someone to help him. “He just kept beating him.” 

The woman turned to look at him and he could see something spark in her eyes. Sympathy? Concern? 

“They started to choke him. His face went blue and he couldn’t breathe--.” Peter paused his explanation as he felt his breathing start to increase. He tugged on his stained and tattered shirt to attempt to calm and ground himself. The woman didn’t make a move to comfort him, but she didn’t get annoyed at him either. She waited for him to be able to speak again. “He passed out. They didn’t let go of his throat until he passed out. And they just dropped him and now I can’t wake him up.” 

She turned back to Pops and tugged on the collar of his shirt so she could see the ring of bruising around his throat. The sight made Peter sick. 

Her voice was surprisingly soft when she spoke up, “It’ll be alright, kid. Just keep an eye on him.” 

The gentleness in her voice didn’t calm him any bit; it only angered him more. How dare she act like she cared when she was able to let them escape. She could easily free them or let Dad know where they were. But she wasn’t going to. “Are you a doctor when you’re not kidnapping and torturing people?”

She clenched her jaw at that, but she didn’t hit him like he expected her to. “Kid, just--.”

“Just what? Lay here helplessly while I wait for your asshole of a brother to come back in and beat my Pops again?” 

“Watch your tongue, kid,” she snapped. 

“If you’re done pretending to care, then leave.” Peter shoved her hands away from Pops and she didn’t fight it. He stared down at Pops again and wiped some more fresh blood off of his face before it trickled into his eye. 

“Whatever. Just do yourself a favor and eat.” She stood up and kicked the plate towards him with not enough force to spill it. “See you tomorrow, kid. Get some rest.” 

Peter watched as she walked out and didn’t even blink until the door was shut and he heard the lock going back in place. Then he turned back to Pops and wiped some more blood off of his face. “It’s okay, Papa. I’m here still. I’ll protect you.” 

He climbed back on his chest and laid his head there, with his face directed at the door, just in case they decided to come back in. Peter made sure to keep a close ear on his heartbeat to ensure it continued to beat. 

He planned to stay up all night and take his turn in look out while Pops was asleep, but before long, Peter’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier with each blink and the beating of Pops’ heart lulled him to sleep. 


	6. day five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I didn't edit this one enough before posting but its 2am and I wanted to get this up before I sleep. 
> 
> Warnings added for this chapter, please be careful.

Steve had been woken up by Peter in a variety of ways. Sometimes yelling, sometimes a foot to the ribs or an elbow to the face, sometimes shaking. It depended on how riled up the kid was and how much he wanted those pancakes. 

But this was the first time he woke him up with  _ screaming.  _ Bloody murder kind of screaming. 

The sound would haunt him forever. 

Steve startled awake and Peter was already awake, squeezing onto him tightly. “Pete--.”

“Papa!” He cried back, his voice breaking with pain.

“Finally awake!”

That voice got Steve to sit up, dizzily. He still felt every bruise from last night. Peter was still clinging on tight, so he went up with Steve.

“Sorry for the rough wake up,” Mister Nice Guy said. “Was just checking on the stitches.”

It was too much at once-- the last thing Steve remembered was thinking he was going to die and then what felt like a moment later, he was waking up the sound of Peter screaming in his ear. “What--?”

“My--.” Peter gasped out in pain, trying to calm his breathing. “He pressed on my stomach.”

“Oh come on! It was barely any pressure!” The smug grin on Mister Nice Guy’s face told them otherwise. Steve wrapped a protective arm around Peter as he glared up at him. “Not even a thank you for checking on him? I could do it again for you.”

“No!” Peter cried, burying his face in Steve’s chest.

“Then what do you say to me for checking on you while your father couldn’t be bothered. Guess he’d rather sleep then make sure his son is okay.” He paused and when Peter didn’t respond, he repeated, “What do you say?”

Peter spoke quietly, “Thank you…”

Mister Nice Guy smiled. “See! I knew you had manners...even though you sometimes forget them.” He shrugged his shoulders, his lips turning downward in a frown. “Which is incredibly rude. I’ve done so much for you two. I’ve given you a place to sleep. I gave you a nice refreshing bath the other night. I give you food! And how do you thank me?” Like a switch was flipped, the anger was back. “By running away! By talking back! By disobeying me! By not eating the food I give you!” He kicked his foot out, sending the two full plates of food across the room. They must have dropped the food off last night after he passed out. Peter didn’t eat it. Damn it. 

At the violent movement, Peter flinched and clung tighter to Steve. Steve held him close, rubbing his back soothingly. “Suppose we aren’t used to such hospitality.”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Mister Nice Guy yelled in outrage. “I’m doing everything for you!”

“...More than enough,” Steve answered.

“Apparently so. But since I guess you’re not hungry you won’t mind skipping tonight’s meal,” he said, his voice growing somewhat calmer.

Peter sat up, pulling away from Steve to apologize, “I’m sorry! If forgot-- I was too worried about Pops! Please don’t take away the food.” 

“That’s too bad. No more food for you. Lessons. Must. Be. Learned!” His voice ended in a booming yell. 

Steve tightened his hold on Peter. 

“Time to let go. He’s coming with us.”

If it was even possible, Steve pulled him closer. 

Mister Nice Guy sighed. “It’d be easier if you let him go.”

Steve hesitated but kept holding him. 

“You want him to stay?”

“Please.”

He grinned. “You’ve got a good idea with the begging.”

Steve looked up at him, unsure of where he was going with that.

“I want you to beg.”

Steve frowned. Had he not just heard him saying please? What more did he want? “...what?”

“Crawl on your knees, kiss my boot and beg,” he said as if it were the most simple request in the world. 

Steve pulled back slightly. “No--.”

Tilting his head, Mister Nice Guy said, “No? Then I guess your boy is spending the day with us.”

Steve could feel Peter’s nails dig into his skin through his shirt. “Don’t do this…”

He ignored Steve, speaking to Peter. “Come on, Pete. You’re coming with us.”

Stop!” Steve yelled, his heart racing. “Please don’t do this--not…” He averted his eyes to the ground, mumbling the last part, “Not in front of my son.”

There wasn’t anything funny about it, but MIster Nice Guy still laughed. “What? Don’t want him to see you like that? Look at you-- he already thinks you’re pathetic.”

“No…” Steve squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. 

“Kiss my boot or else I will drag him out of your arms by his ear.” 

Steve slowly started to let go of Peter and maneuver away from him.

“That’s it,” Mister Nice Guy praised him in a voice that was sickeningly patronizing. “Good boy.”

Steve did everything possible to avoid looking at Peter as he moved away. He was a few inches from Mister Nice Guy when he pushed his foot out. Steve paused, staring at the dirty boot. He saw a splatter of blood across the toe, probably from kicking Steve senseless with it. “Change your mind?”

Steve tried again. “Not in front of my son…”

“You have a point. Doing this in front of your son is quite humiliating…” He trailed off, leaving Steve a bit confused as to why he would agree with him. His unspoken question was answered a moment later, “Make sure the kid is watching.”

“Please don’t,” Steve begged. 

“You want to hear him scream again?” 

God, Steve never wanted to hear that sound again in his life. Though he already knew it would be a constant presence in his dreams. 

“..P--,” Steve stopped and sighed. “...please.”

“Forgetting something?”

Steve hated this. Doing this ripped Steve of any dignity he had left. Crawling on his hands and knees to kiss this asshole’s boot was bad enough, but knowing Peter was behind him watching made it a million times worse. 

He hesitated before leaning down and kissed his boot, Mister Nice Guy cackling above him. 

“How does it feel, kid? To see your father on his hands and knees at my feet, begging and kissing my shoe. What a guy to look up to, am I right?” 

After he pulled his lips away, Steve moved back, keeping his head hung in shame. He was absolutely pathetic. 

“Alright. We’ve had our fun with you.” Mister Nice Guy patted him on the top of his head. “It’s his turn. Boys, go get him.”

Steve’s head shot up. “Wait-- what?”

He ignored Pops. “Unchain him and bring him with us. We’ve got work to do.”

Steve’s mind was racing a mile a minute. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He kissed his fucking shoe so this wouldn’t happen. “No-- what?! Wait--.”

Before he could move to protect Peter, Mister Nice guy restrained him by grabbing the necklaces around his neck. He used them to keep him back unless he wanted the chains to dig into his already sore neck. “Do not fight me!”

“Don’t take my son away from me!” Steve screamed right back. This was different than any other form of torture they’ve used. At least Steve and Peter were always together previously. Steve could keep an eye on him. He knew exactly how Peter was. 

Mister Nice Guy finally acknowledged him. “We’re not going very far! Just down the hall-- so close I’m sure you’ll be able to hear his screams.”

“Don’t you touch him!” Steve shouted, his eyes widening. 

“That all depends on him. If he’s good, he won’t be hurt at all.”

Steve scowled at him, knowing that if Peter was taken and didn’t have Steve to tell him to hush, he wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. 

Steve had to watch as they unchained Peter and he reached out for him. “Papa! please! I don’t wanna leave you!”

Steve turned his head to face Mister Nice Guy. “You said you wouldn’t take him!”

“Guess that makes me a liar then.” He smiled before turning back to his goons. “Take him out of here. If he fights, fight back harder.”

“Papa! No-- stop!” Peter didn’t stop struggling.

“Peter, don’t---,” Steve said, wishing Peter would just stop and listen. He seemed to love pressing his luck with these men that wanted to hurt him. 

“It’d be wise to listen to your pops.”   
“Don’t please-- stop it!” Peter cried. “I don’t wanna go with you!”

The man holding Peter, punched him in the stomach, right where the stab wound was. He howled in pain, leaning over. 

“The fuck was that?” Steve yelled. 

“The kid is fighting us,” the man holding Peter grunted. “He’s about to get a lot more. Might as well get used to it.”

“I’m not going with them! Pops, I’m not!” Peter's eyes were wild and desperate. 

“Peter-- just stop-- listen to them.” He looked desperately to Mister Nice Guy. “Please don’t take him-- come on.”

“We get bored all alone.” 

That made Steve sick. They were bored so they wanted to take his son just to torture him. “Take me instead, my God.”

“Oh, we will have you. Even if you’re not with us, we’ll have you. Especially when you’re here, alone, wondering what we’re doing to make your boy scream. We’ll be torturing you too. Because we’re always with you.”

Steve wasn’t sure what overcame him. He’s made it days without fighting back once. But hearing him say that made him snapped. He reeled his fist back and sent it flying directly into Mister NIce Guy’s face to wipe that ugly grin right off his face

He didn’t have his normal strength, but he still had enough to make the man fall backwards onto his ass. Steve heard a snap from the necklaces around his necklace, but he didn’t think much of it. He could get the chains fixed. 

His main concern was Mister Nice Guy, on the ground, holding his chin. He was hit hard enough to bruise soon and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of the punishment of that. But they were going to take Peter and hurt him anyway.

But he wasn’t angry. He was laughing. “You’ve got quite a pair. Really. I didn’t expect that.” He paused, pulling his hand away from his chin. “Maybe from the brat, but not you.”

Steve just stared, holding his breath anxiously waiting.

“And now look at this...you broke your necklace.” Mister Nice Guy dangled the necklace he broke in front of Steve’s face. 

_ Oh fuck.  _ Steve’s blood ran cold when he saw the St. Michael necklace in his hand. 

Mister Nice Guy watched it sway in the air. “What’s Captain America doing with this?”

Peter’s voice was enough to break Steve’s heart. “No!”

Mister Nice Guy picked up on the anguish in Peter’s voice and he turned to face him. “I didn’t break it, kid. Your pops did.” He threw it across the room and Peter went silent as he stared at it.

The worst part was that he was right. Steve was the reason it was broken-- the necklace that Ben had given to Peter who then gave it to Steve was broken. Because of Steve. 

They started dragging Peter away and Steve could see the tears falling down his cheeks. His eyes didn’t leave the necklace. 

The anger from Steve punching him across the jaw finally appeared as he grabbed Steve’s hair, forcing him to look at Peter even though he couldn’t take his eyes off his kid. That necklace breaking was probably the most painful thing to Peter this entire time. And Steve was the one that broke it. 

“Take a good look at your boy,” Mister Nice Guy growled. “Remember what he looks like. Remember what you just did...because he’s about to pay the price and I can’t guarantee the condition we’ll return him in. Oh and I almost forgot--.” He punched Steve across the face, but it didn’t hurt. Nothing hurt more than knowing he broke Ben’s necklace.

The brute dragged Peter past, but before they left the room, Mister Nice Guy stopped them. “Hold up. Kid’s gonna be gone a few hours without his father. Let’s let him say goodbye. Maybe even a hug. We’re nice guys, remember?” 

Peter was too busy staring at the necklace to respond. . 

Steve wanted a hug from his baby. “Pete…”

Peter finally looked away from the necklace with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said even though he knew it wasn’t enough. 

Peter only blinked. “For what?”

“For breaking it…”

Peter smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes and it definitely wasn’t one of his smiles that broke out the dimples in his cheeks. Steve’s heart continued to break. “It’s okay...just a n-necklace..nothing special.”

“Pete…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter’s voice cracked and he looked away as he started to cry again. 

Steve was close to crying himself. 

“No hug then? Thought I was being generous.”

“Do I have permission to move?” Peter asked in a hollow voice. He wasn’t asking sarcastically. He was genuinely asking. 

Mister Nice Guy smiled, sounding pleased at how well trained Peter sounded. “Good boy for asking.” After praising Peter, his voice hardened and he said to the man holding him, “Let him come over. One last time to know the feeling of a comforting touch because by the time we’re through with him, he won’t even remember what it’s like to be touched for any reason other than to hurt.”

Peter didn’t react to the threat as he was shoved forward. Steve caught him and Peter wrapped his arms around him, letting out a low whimper. 

Steve hugged him gently keeping the wound in his stomach in mind even though he wanted to squeeze him so tight. He began mumbling, “I’m sorry,” over and over.

Peter shook his head. “It’s just a necklace. Didn’t even work anyway. Couldn’t protect Ben. Couldn’t protect you.”

Hearing those words out of Peter’s mouth drained all the emotion from Steve, leaving him feeling numb.

“Times up,” Mister Nice Guy said, letting go of Steve to grab Peter. He dragged him away and out of the room. 

Before he was too far, Peter whispered, “Love you Pops.”

Steve blinked, watching as they continued to drag his child away. “Yeah...love you too…”

Mister Nice Guy gave him a smile before the door was slammed shut. 

For the first time since Steve recognized that mop of curls being dragged in, Steve was alone. And if Peter were somewhere safe, he wouldn’t mind. But he wasn’t rescued. He was even closer to the lion’s den. 

It was silent and Steve didn’t even have Peter’s soft breathing to create some white noise. Because the only time Peter was ever quiet was when he was asleep. There was no way in hell Steve was going to include the day he was gagged. That wasn’t normal and would never happen again. Never. 

Steve crawled over to where the necklace was thrown on the ground and picked it up with careful fingers. He held it like it might break again in his hands and brought it close to his chest. 

His eyes shut as he felt a tear pool from the corner of his eye. Despite never meeting the man before, Steve found himself begging for forgiveness. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect him. I should have kept him safe. I'm so sorry, Ben." 

\--

Peter barely put up a fight when they dragged him into the new room. They were laughing as they manhandled him to a chair in the center of the room. 

It was obvious this was their plan from the moment they went into their cell that morning. No matter what Pops did, they were dragging Peter back here. 

To say he wasn't scared would be a lie, but the necklace snapping like that numbed most of his feelings. That was Peter's line of hope. They ruined that too. 

So the laughter didn't bother him. It usually did. At school, he  _ hated  _ the kids all staring at him and laughing. But now, it didn't even make him blush. 

"Did you see Captain America on his fucking hands and knees begging like a little bitch?" One of them howled with laughter. "Kissing his damn shoe?" 

"Makes me wonder what else he'd do with that mouth if we ask nicely," the other replied in between his own laughter. 

"Well, we've got all the leverage we need to find out right here." There was a hand in his hair, ruffling it. It wasn't meant to be painful, but it was much rougher than his dads' ruffles ever were. 

He thought too soon.

The hand tightened in his hair as it yanked his head back. His neck bent painfully until he was staring up at them. "Your daddy is gonna have fun with them while you're here. But I bet he'll be too busy wondering what we're doing to you the whole time to care about himself." 

"He's probably expecting him to be a little roughed up, don't you think?" The other said to his partner. "We can't let Captain America down." 

"No, I don't think we can." He smiled, baring all his teeth. He knew anyone else would compare it to a shark's smile. But Peter knew better. Sharks were gentle and kind until they needed to be rough. These men were nothing like sharks. They only knew unnecessary pain and torment.

Peter would have felt safer in the depths of the ocean with two Great White sharks swimming around him. He'd be amazed and mesmerized by their grace and their beauty. Maybe he'd reach out and pet one, let the shark know he meant no harm. They were friends. 

These men were not his friends. They weren't graceful. They were mean and ugly-- from the inside out. 

"So quiet now? What happened to that smart ass that could never keep his mouth shut?" The man with his still in his hair sneered. 

"We don't want you to be quiet, kiddo," the other cooed as he leaned in closer. He took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and smacked it against his palm a few times before he pulled one out. His movements were slow as he held the cigarette between his lips and lifted a lighter to light it up. 

While Peter watched the tip of the cigarette ignite, burning orange and red as it burned, the man watched the flame flickering and dancing from his lighter. He brought it close to Peter's face. So close he could feel the heat on his cheek, just beneath his eye. 

Then with a snap, the light was capped and the flame was gone. Peter relaxed slightly. 

The man smirked as he pocketed the lighter and then took a long drag of the cigarette. He took his time releasing the smoke from his mouth, right in Peter's face. He couldn't turn away because of the hand in his hair, so he sealed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut until the smoke wasn't being blown directly into his face any longer. 

Peter could still smell it and it made his empty stomach churn dangerously. He just wanted to go back to that other cell. The one with Pops. He wanted to curl up and hide his face in his chest. He wanted to let him protect him from everything around them. 

But Pops wasn't here. 

And no one could protect him. 

"We want to hear you scream, boy," he finished, pulling the cigarette from his lips and stabbing Peter's arm with it. Despite the pain, it was barely anything. Not enough to make him do more than take a quick intake of breath. 

"Nothing? Well, I've got a whole pack to make you squirm and I won't stop until you're the one begging." He took another drag, another puff in Peter's face and another round of the ashes being put out with his skin. "Come on, little one. Papa's listening." 

Peter shut his eyes and ignored it all. The pain. The smell of cigarettes and burning skin. The laughter and taunting. The fear. 

He just shut it all off and waited for it to be over. 

\--

"I don't get it," Tony muttered, kicking his foot against the left of his table. The dull pain in his toe was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. 

"Maybe...maybe they haven't done anything worth sending." Harry was always close by, keeping an eye on him. If Tony weren't so lost without his family, maybe he'd care about being treated like a baby. 

"Not that…" While it was concerning why it had been over 24 hours since they received that video of them drowning Peter as Stebe begged them to stop, that wasn't what Tony was currently frustrated about. "They both have trackers. Peter has two." 

Harry went silent, just watching. He didn't know about Peter's second tracker. Neither did Steve. Peter had wanted it implanted in his arm in case anything like this happened. And still, it did nothing to help. 

"Why can't I find them through either one? I don't get it!" He threw his hand out angrily and was satisfied when he sent a glass cup shattering across the floor.

Harry immediately stood up and Tony stopped him. "Stay back. You're not getting hurt cleaning up my messes." 

Harry hesitated but stayed where he was. 

"Maybe there's extra coding in their security walls. I'll help you figure it out. We'll start over. Look for something we missed."

Tony hated not knowing the answer to something. He didn't even know the problem. How was he supposed to fix this? He couldn't. "What if we're too late?" 

"We're not," Harry said, although it didn't sound convincing. "We're going to get them back." He turned back to the laptop he had in front of him. "I'll try to break through some more of these signals we're getting from the bracelet and necklace. One of them has to be--." 

Alarms started to blare throughout the tower. Tony knew those alarms. They were the alarms that triggered enough panic once to have Peter willingly chip himself. 

"What's that?" Harry asked, standing up and looking ready to fight even though he had no superpowers. Not even a metal suit. 

Tony wasn't able to answer him right away and when he did, he wasn't even sure if Harry could hear him. "One of them-- their bracelet or their necklace...one of them can no longer detect a heartbeat." 

Harry's voice shook when he spoke. "That means...that means that…"

One of them was dead. 

\--

Peter sat there and he took it all. The taunts and the teasing and burning and the smoke. 

He kept himself shut off so that he didn't have to deal with it completely. It was there, but he could ignore it. 

He didn't react when the door opened. He wasn't sure how many minutes-- or hours-- had passed. He sat there and waited, hoping maybe it'd be the man and maybe the man would bring him back to Pops. 

"What are you two idiots doing?" 

That wasn't a man's voice. 

There was a cigarette close to eye. It was so close he could see the embers flaking away and falling. He didn't fell them landing in his laps. He barely felt any of it 

So he wasn't scared when it got closer. He knew it would probably end with the cigarette being put out on his cheek bone, but he didn't care. 

"Get that away from his face," the woman snapped. "You're not supposed to hurt him." 

"We ain't hurting him. He hasn't even made a squeak yet. Hasn't asked us to stop yet either. He must like it." 

Peter didn't like it. He hated it. He hated having to shut himself down. But he didn't say any of this outloud. He just kept staring ahead. 

"Get outta here. I'm bringing him back." 

"What? But we just barely started playin'!" The man brought the cigarette down to his arm and added what would probably be another welt. Peter hadn't looked down since it started. 

"Get out of here!" She yelled and even Peter felt his eye twitch. 

The two men in front of him grumbled and complained but begrudgingly stood up and walked over to where the voice was coming from. 

Once they were gone, Peter still didn't move. He heard the woman sigh and then he heard a familiar sound of a dog panting...but why was there a dog? 

Why did she want them alone? Was she going to use her dog to torture him next? He didn't want that-- he wanted those men back. He'd rather be their ashtray than a dog's chew toy. 

He didn't want to flinch every time Tessa tried comforting when he got home. 

He heard the dog start to run across the floor, their nail scraping and his collar jingling. When the dog was up in his face with two paws on his thighs, Peter sucked in a breath and this time, he flinched. 

But teeth didn't bite into his face like he had expected them to...there was a tongue excitedly licking Peter's face. 

And this dog looked nothing like Tessa-- this dog's fur was white while Tessa's was brown and this dog's snout was a different shape than Tessa's. But Peter closed his eyes and for a brief moment he let himself pretend that he was back home. 

Until the dog was being pulled away from him and both Peter and the dog let out a whine. The woman didn't let him jump back up. "Sorry about Louis. He's very friendly." 

Peter just opened his eyes and watched as Louis wagged his tail, panting happily. She must treat him nice. "He's cute." 

"He is…" The woman loosened her hold on his leash and let him trot back over. Peter couldn't move his hands from where they were strapped to the arms of the chair, but he wanted to pet him. 

Louis jumped back up and Peter tucked his face into his fur while he tried to lick him. Peter missed Tessa. She knew when Peter needed to calm down and cuddle. She always knew exactly what Peter needed. 

"He likes you." The woman came closer and Peter should have pulled away. But he didn't. He just watched as she pet Louis on the top of his head. 

"I like him," Peter replied, despite only knowing the dog all of 3 minutes. 

"Here, then let me help." She walked over and put her hands on his cuffs but stopped. He knew what she was looking at. The small circular burns littering his arms. She was probably smiling and admiring their work. 

Peter lowered his head in embarrassment as she continued to stare. He felt the back of his neck burning up and he wished he could go back to not feeling at all. 

"They did this to you?" Her voice wasn't proud...it was almost angry. 

"Yes, ma'am," Peter responded, his head still down. Why was she angry? What did he do wrong? 

"They weren't supposed to hurt you. We were only trying to scare your dad." 

"It didn't hurt," Peter said truthfully. 

The woman paused before she put her hand under his chin and tilted his head up to stare at her. She looked into his eyes and just stared. 

Peter knew he should be nervous or scared, but he wasn't. He just stared up at her, blinking once. 

"Shit," she cursed before letting go of his chin. His head fell back down in place. "I'm gonna get you back to your dad." 

He wanted his Pops so badly. He just wanted to be held by him. He wanted to feel safe. He wanted this to be over. 

Peter wished he felt some sort of excitement when he felt her start to unlock the cuffs on his wrists and then followed by his ankles. Earlier on, he would have jumped up to run, but now he stayed put. 

The woman's hands were back on his face, but this time she was just swiping a thumb across his cheek. "Don't cry. It'll be alright." 

Huh. When did he start crying? 

She was pulling him up from the chair when the door slammed open. She didn't flinch or stop her movements. "Felix, those assholes were putting their fucking cigarettes out on him." 

"Points for creativity." 

Peter hated that voice. He hated hearing it. He wanted it gone. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to be as far away from that man as possible. 

So he hid again. He hid so well their voices became muffled like he was underwater. He was underwater with the sharks that were much friendlier than the people on land. The sharks would keep him safe and they wouldn't let him drown. 

He just had to hold on. 

Just a little bit longer. 

\--

The first noise Steve heard in hours, after spending it alone, was a knock at the door. They didn’t wait before opening it, not that Steve was surprised when he saw Mister Nice Guy walk through. “I have a gift for you.”

Steve stared at him expectantly and then the two men came in behind him. They were holding Peter between them by his arms. His feet were dragging on the ground behind him. Steve would have thought he was unconscious if he didn’t see his eyes open. 

“He’s gone a little quiet,” Mister Nice Guy said, shrugging his shoulders. But it’s to be expected.” 

Steve held out his arms out for him, but they dropped him to the grund just out of reach. Steve glared at them. Why did they always just drop him to the cement? Was it so hard to at least drop him into Steve’s arms. 

Peter just laid there, curling up. Steve tried to get his attention, “Pete…”

“Don’t be surprised. Think the kid checked out.” Mister Nice Guy laughed and started to follow the other two out the door. He stopped in the doorway and turned to face him. “You’re welcome, by the way. Peace and quiet.” With a wink, he shut the door behind them and he was gone just like that. 

He had his fun. He didn't need to stick around. The damage was all done.

“Hey, Pete-- buddy…” Steve said softly once they were alone. 

Peter slowly turned his head to Steve. Steve had seen Peter in a dissociative state like this before, but never once did his eyes ever look so empty. 

“Come here…” He whispered, hoping Peter was at least comprehending what he was saying just enough to get to his arms. 

After a few moments of Steve looking into his eyes, Peter slowly started dragging himself over to Steve. Steve winced, knowing he definitely was dissociating because he was dragging his stomach across the cement. He should be making some sound of pain as he tugged at the stitches like that. 

“That’s it,” Steve encouraged him anyway, just wanting to get Peter to his arms. 

Peter collapsed when he was close enough for Steve to pick him up and lift him the rest of the way into his arms. He slowly began to check him over for any new wounds. He couldn’t tell if this state of mind was left over from the necklace or if they did something to him in the hours he was gone. 

“Buddy, can you tell me if they hurt you?” 

Peter whimpered, hiding his face in Steve’s shoulder. Steve rubbed his back, shushing him soothingly. “Shhh, it’s okay.” He wasn’t going to get anything from Peter except any evidence they left behind. He wasn’t bleeding anywhere new, which was a relief. The only obvious mark was his bruised cheek, no doubt from being slapped around. And as angry as the thought of someone slapping his kid made him, it was better than most things they could have done. 

Steve cupped his cheek softly, rubbing the bruise with a thumb. He spoke softly to Peter even though the kid probably wouldn’t hear him, “Were you a wise ass? I hope you at least said something good if you got slapped.” He paused, realizing the joking wasn't working. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in there to protect you.” 

Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t a response from Peter. So Steve continued to check him over. He lifted his shirt, checking the stitches. The skin was red and inflamed around it. Of course it was already starting to show signs of infection. The needle wasn’t sterile to begin with and these assholes loved poking at it with their grubby fingers. Steve hoped they got out before it got too bad. 

He was about to stop his checking, thinking nothing else was wrong when he caught sight of his arms. He gently pried it from where Peter had it wrapped around Steve’s waist. It wasn’t hard. Peter put up no fight. “I’ll put it back in a sec, bud. I just wanna see.” 

He held Peter’s arm in his hands like it was more fragile than a piece of glass. He ran his thumb over his forearm that was littered with a few small red welts, not even a half inch wide. Steve frowned, looking at where Peter’s face was half hidden against him. “What’d they do to you, bud?” 

It was more of just an out loud wonder because he knew Peter wasn’t going to answer. Not for another few hours. 

He sighed heavily and with one last glance, he returned Peter’s arm back to where he had it wrapped around Steve. Steve held him closer, fixing their positions so it was more comfortable for the both of them. Peter laid against him still, not saying a word. 

Whatever came the next day, Steve could take. Just as long as they didn't take his baby again. He'd fight them another day. He'd fight them a million more days to keep Peter safe. 

But hopefully, Tony planned on coming sooner than that. 

Hopefully. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts: louis is a bull terrier that Missy named after Louis Vuitton
> 
> Ben's necklace is a reference to another fic in this series (without a fight) where peter gives peter his st Michel's necklace that Ben used to wear.


	7. day six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a heavy chapter. Whumpage wise and just content wise. There is a lot of talking about death and even a thought or two about suicide.

It was another night Steve went without sleeping. He held tightly onto Peter and cradled him in his lap. 

Peter was awake. He woke up about an hour ago, but he didn't say a word. He stayed curled up with his eyes staring at the wall across from them. 

Steve continued carding his fingers through Peter's hair steadily, both of them sitting in complete silence, until the door slammed open. 

“You’re gonna like what we have in store for you two today.” Nice Guy announced as he strolled into their room with that damn mask still on his face. Steve didn’t see a video camera around, but sometimes he wore the mask just because he knew it was creepy. 

Steve knew that Peter hated the mask, not that he blamed him. This time, he didn't react to the mask, but Steve kept a tight hold on him. 

Nice Guy looked down at them and raised his eyebrows. He looked amused from the sight of them curled up together on the floor. “You’re gonna need to let go of him for this.”

Steve stared at him without saying a word. He didn’t want to let go of Peter unless it meant Peter was safe at home. 

Nice Guy laughed when he didn’t move. “Oh, come on. Afraid I’m gonna take him away again?” 

There was a warning to that. As if he was telling Steve to let him go or else they were going to drag Peter away again. He couldn’t take that again. Peter couldn’t take that again. He still hadn’t recovered from last night. Steve hadn’t heard him speak in hours. 

So, he started to loosen his hold on Peter. But still keep him close just in case. 

“See?” Nice Guy said smugly. “Not so hard. Almost there. We’re not gonna hurt him,” he cooed as if Steve were a child. Steve glared at him. 

Once Steve had his hands off of Peter, Nice Guy ordered, “Peter, come over by me. Right here on your knees.” 

He pointed to the ground in front of him and Peter followed his instructions without any hesitation. Steve hated watching him scramble to that man and settle in front of him, kneeling with his head looking down. Nice Guy ruffled his hair as Peter continued to stare down at the ground. 

“Look at this-- I’ve only had him for a few days and he already listens better than any time you’ve had him...Alright, Pete. Shirt off, bud.” 

Peter started to pull off his shirt without a second thought. Steve wasn’t sure if Peter even knew what he was doing, but that didn’t mean Steve was as numb to the action as he was. 

“What are you doing?” A dozen thoughts swirled around his head about what that monster could possibly want with Peter shirtless and on his knees in front of him. He didn’t like what images his mind was showing him. Even if it never happened, the thought alone was enough to haunt Steve’s dreams. 

“Getting ready for the fun we have planned for today,” Nice Guy answered as one of the brutes handed him a bag. “I bet you can’t guess what we have in here.”

“Probably not...” Steve replied, hating how chipper his voice sounds at the prospect of what was probably just another day of torture. 

Nice Guy kneeled by Peter and Steve let out a breath of relief that his fear wouldn’t be coming true. Instead, he just held out the bag. “Take it, Peter. Stick your hand in and see what you pull out.” 

Once again, Peter was quick to follow the order given to him. He stuck his hand in and pulled out a whip. 

“Now...I’m sure you know where this is going.”

Steve’s blood ran cold. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.”

“We won’t. As long as you choose correctly.” Steve wanted to throw up at the sight of the whip in Peter's hand. “We can give him 20 lashes or you can give him 10.” 

Steve swore that he could feel his heart skip a beat. “...me..?”

Nice Guy narrowed his eyes. “Did I stutter?”

The worst part was that Steve knew there was no escaping this. They couldn’t avoid the stabbing or the beatings or the drowning...they wouldn’t be able to avoid the whipping either. For Peter, it would be easier for Steve to do it so it hurt less, but for Steve, he couldn’t even imagine himself whipping Peter. No matter what. “Pete?”

Peter just stared back at him empitly. 

Did he even realize what was going on?”

Steve reiterated what Nice Guy said, “Just 10…” Maybe he was asking for permission. Maybe he was hoping Peter would take the 20. 

God-- what kind of father did that make him?

As an answer, Peter held out the whip for Steve. 

Steve took a deep breath. “Okay…” 

Nice Guy laughed, already having too much fun with this. “Come on then. Let’s get this party started.”

Steve shakily crawled over, listening to the chains dragging behind him. 

Nice Guy continued on as Steve stopped just in front of Peter. “What’s a matter? You nervous? Here’s a tip: try not to remember the fact that it’s your own son you’re about to whip!”

Steve flinched violently.  _ Jesus Christ. _

“Peter, hand your father the whip.”

Peter’s hand shot out some more and Steve took it, mumbling, “I’m sorry.”

Steve kept his head down, but he could still see Nice Guy bouncing on his feet in excitement. “This is quite possibly the best moment of my life. Right after you kissing my shoe.”

Steve shot him a dark look at that. Steve would kiss his boot a million more times if it saved Peter from being whipped. If it saved Steve from being the one to whip him.

This was different than everything else. This wasn’t just another asshole in a mask hurting Peter...it was Steve. Steve was the one that was going to make his boy hurt even more. 

Nice Guy clapped his hands to speed them up. “I’ll count for you. Give it your best.”

“Pete, I’m sorry--.” An apology wouldn’t even begin to make this better. 

Peter only shrugged his shoulders as if he barely realized what was going on. Did he know that his own father was about to strike him with a whip?

Maybe he would continue dissociating through the pain. He held onto that hope as he took a shaky breath and delivered his first whip. 

The whip cracked against Peter’s back and immediately, it brought him to life. Peter gasped in a mixture of pain and surprise. He began to fall forward but caught himself. “Pops--.”

Steve did that to him. “I’m sorry...”

“That's one! Only 9 more to go!”

Peter looked away, tensing considerably. 

Steve pulled his arm back and whipped him again, this time as light as he could. Damn his super strength. He was hurting his boy. He was whipping him. He was supposed to protect him and he was hurting him. 

And bless Peter; he was trying not to make any sound through it. But Steve could see the angry red lines across his back already. He knew it had to hurt like hell. 

He did it again without prompting, just wanting to get it over with. His hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the whip in his hand. 

Nice Guy was still too excited. “3! Almost there.”

Steve whipped him 3 times. Peter was breathing heavy in front of him, in pain, because of him. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t lift the whip again. His vision blurred as he began to mumble, “I’m sorry” over and over.

Nice Guy scoffed when he realized Steve wasn’t about to stop freaking out any time soon. “I’ll make you a deal. since you seem incapable of this...how about only 5? 2 more and then you can stop.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t--.”

Nice Guy leaned down so he was closer to Steve’s face. “Can’t what?”

“I can’t do it--.” Steve couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. 

Nice Guy clicked his tongue. “Well...I know  _ we _ can, if that’s what you’d like.”

“It’s o-okay, Pops...I’m okay…” Peter’s voice was weak and it was the first comprehensible sentence he had said since he was taken from Steve. And it was to tell Steve he was okay after being whipped three times by him. 

If Peter was strong enough to go through it, Steve could handle just 2 more whips. 2 was better than 20. So, he whipped him again and this time, Peter couldn’t hold back his gasp of pain. That was the last straw for Steve. Peter was crying-- Peter was hurt. 

“You’re going to give up with one left?” Nice Guy asked incredulously. “That’ll just prove how weak you are. You can’t handle one more whip to save your child from 20 more. Pathetic!” He knew he was weak. He knew he was pathetic. He didn’t need this to show him. 

Steve looked up at him and implored, “Please-- just whip me-- please don’t-- I’m sorry! I can’t-- I’ll do anything!”

Nice Guy shook his head slowly. “You’re pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.” He started to inspect the dirt and blood underneath his fingernails and continuedbin a bored tone, “Apologize to your son for being such a sorry excuse for a father and I’ll let you stop.”

Steve jumped at the chance. “I’m sorry, Peter! I’m sorry!”

And despite everything, Peter replied, “Pops-- it’s not your fault. I'm okay…”

Nice Guy couldn’t let it go though. “Why are you sorry? Tell him  _ why _ you’re sorry.”

Steve nodded his head, following the order hastily like Peter had been doing. “I’m sorry for being such a pathetic excuse of a father…” He staggered and dropped to one knee. He didn’t want to just apologize for this...there was so much more to apologize for. “I’m sorry you’re in this mess.-- I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. I’m sorry for everything.”

Peter’s voice was thick with tears when he whispered, “Please don’t be sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve repeated.

“Pops...”

Nice Guy kicked his knee and said, “Alright, you can give me back the whip. And go in front of your boy. Come on before I change my mind.”

Steve handed it over hesitantly. “Please don’t hurt him. Please.”

Nice Guy promised, “I won’t.” 

Steve wasn’t sure if he trusted his word or if he was just desperate to comfort Peter without making it worse. 

Steve crawled over to him and despite his own hesitation, Peter reached for him with beseeching hands. “Papa…”

Steve paused before offering him his shaky hands. 

Peter’s grabbed onto his hands so tightly it hurt. Steve didn’t care. He deserved it. “Is it over?”

Steve glanced over at Nice Guy. He wasn’t in charge here and he wasn’t about to make Peter a promise if it wasn’t true. 

Nice Guy didn’t answer Steve’s question, but he lifted the mask off his face and his lips curled into something just as scary. “Hold him up. I like to see how long it takes for him to give in.” Before Steve could process what that meant, Nce Guy was handing the whip to the brute. 

“What--?” 

“You didn’t hold up your end of the deal, so now he’s getting 20. And I can promise you, we’re not going as light and easy as you were.”

Steve tugged Peter’s hands so he was against his chest again. He held him tight. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

Nice Guy waved his hands around. “I don’t have the whip in my hand, do I?”

Steve knew he couldn’t stop it. No matter how much he held onto Peter. “No! Please!”

Nice Guy leaned closer with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Remember last night? Remember punching me?”

The memory came flashing back. “...yes--.”

Nice Guy pulled away, schooling his features. “Good. You’re counting.”

Steve shook his head, begging again, “Please don’t--.”

Unlike Steve, the brute didn’t hesitate before he cracked the whip down on Peter’s back. It snapped harshly and Steve couldn’t see it, but he knew it broke skin. Peter fell even deeper into Steve’s arms with a loud cry of pain. 

His baby was in pain. “No! Stop!”

Nice Guy ignored him. “Peter, since your father refuses, you’re counting.” 

There was another whip and Peter cried out, “T-two.” 

Steve cried out too, “Stop!”

Nice Guy’s attitude took a 360 spin like it usually did. He shouted, “You asked for this!”

Another whip. 

“I gave you an option!” 

Another whip.

“You’re too weak!”

Another whip. 

Peter was shaking in his Steve’s arms, barely able to hold himself up. “Fi...five..”

Nice Guy’s voice was sickeningly sweet again. “Tell me, Pops. Do you think he’ll make it to 20?”

Steve didn’t know. He didn’t want to find out. “Stop it! Please stop! I’ll do anything just-- stop!”

Nice Guy sneered, “You’re too late!”

“Please!”

He was answered with three quick whips in succession. 

Peter was crying against Steve as he begged, “St--stop...please stop...”

Steve couldn’t take it. He couldn’t just listen to Peter sobbing like this anymore. “Please stop it! Take me! Take me instead please! I”ll do anything just-- please stop!”

“You see this is the fun part! This right here-- this hurts you more than anything we could ever do to you.” 

There was another whip. 

Peter was sobbing so hard he could barely take a breath in. Steve wanted 

“Stop! My God-- please stop-- please!” 

The brute whipped again and this one was the hardest of them all and Peter’s legs finally gave out. Steve struggled to hold him up. 

With a heavy sigh, Nice Guy said, “Fine. I think 10 of ours and your few will be fine. Don’t think he’d make it much longer anyway…” Nice Guy walked over and patted Peter on the back. Hard. “Good job, buddy! Knew you could do it!” 

Peter sobbed out in pain, his nails digging into Steve’s skin. 

“I think that’s all we’ve got for now...we’ll be back later. But for now, I’ll let you two catch up. Maybe take a little breather.” Nice Guy moved his now bloody hand to pat Steve’s cheek.

Then he was out of the room, his laughing goons following him close behind. The door slammed shut and the only thing echoing off the concrete walls were Peter's cries.

"Are-- are they gone? Is it done?”

Steve had never heard Peter so distraught and in so much pain. He didn't know how he was supposed to ever make this better. “Mhmm.”

“I’m sorry-- tried not to cry." 

Steve pulled him closer. He felt his eyes burning and he knew they were going to fall soon. But he wanted to hold them back so he didn't start sobbing. He didn't want to be weak in front of Peter when he needed the comforting. “Stop-- don’t apologize please. Please.” 

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this Pops...it hurts  _ so much."  _

Steve was the reason. He hurt him. “I’m sorry-- I know." 

Peter continued to cry, “I wanna go home.”

“Me too, bud-- I’m sorry.” Steve felt his tears start to fall as Peter's sobs increased. 

He continued to cry and whine in pain as Steve babbled endless apologies. 

That's how they stayed for the rest of the day. Even when Peter dozed off, Steve didn't. He just held Peter tight and cried.

\--

Nice Guy came back in later. The tears on Steve's cheeks were just starting to dry. “Aww, he’s adorable when he sleeps.”

Steve scowled up at him. He hated always looking up at this prick.

“Thought he’d never stop crying.” Nice Guy laughed as he walked over and squatted until they were eye level.

Steve wanted to punch him. 

“You know...he’s not looking too good. With wounds like that-- I give it a day or so before his back is one infected mess. And untreated, that is quite fatal. And painful.”

Steve grew angry. He narrowed his eyes, daring this man to keep it up.

Nice Guy didn't seem bothered. “Can I ask you a question, Captain?”

“What?”

Nice Guy stared down at Peter. “When you have something-- anything tangible, really...and you use it, you play with it so much that it breaks...what do you do with it?”

“Fix it.”

“Sometimes-- sometimes it’s just beyond fixable. It’s not worth it.” He shrugged his shoulders, finally looking away from Peter. 

“Where are you going with this?” Steve was afraid to hear the answer. 

“When I break something...I don’t like wasting my time. I just sweep it up with the other dirt and dust. Throw it away. Where it belongs.” He started to stroke Peter’s hair. “Our boy here isn’t looking too good. I think I’ve broken him beyond fixing.”

Steve refused to believe that. “No.”

“Look at him...he’s in pain. And if not us, then the fever and infection will get him. I’m just saving us some time here. He’s useless to us now.”

Steve's response was immediate. “No.”

His defiance still seemed to frustrate the man. “You don’t have a say. He is mine now. And I’m  _ done _ with him.”

Steve's eyes narrowed. God, he kill this man right here. “I said no. He’s  _ my _ son. You’re not taking him away again.”

"You think you have a choice?” Nice Guy narrowed his eyes too. 

“I won’t let you.”

Nice Guy was obviously frustrated. “I’m going to kill him. That is how this is going to end. He’s done. I still have some play life left with you, but I don’t imagine having much left after tomorrow." He paused to smile. "Maybe I’ll let you outside long enough to bury him.”

Steve didn't even hesitate before pulling his fist backwards and sending it into the prick's face.

Nice Guy's face snapped to the side and for a moment, Steve was satisfied. Until he said, “Do that again and I’ll bury him while he’s still breathing.”

Steve growled, curling protectively over Peter. “Over my dead body.”

Nice Guy rubbed his cheek before straightening himself up. “As promising as that sounds, it’s not your time to go yet.”

Steve scoffed. 

Nice Guy's face hardened. “I didn’t come to discuss this. I came to tell you. He was fun to play with, but he’s becoming more of a burden and I’m sure you can agree. So, tomorrow...well, let’s just say, I’d say your goodbyes now.”

Steve clenched his teeth and squeezed his hand into a tight fist. He wanted to make him bleed and bruise and cry. “You know, you have a very punchable face.”

“Is that so?”

“Yup.”

“I’d say the same about you, but I can barely see it underneath all the blood and bruises.”

Steve just gave him a sarcastic smile.

Nice Guy stared at him silently before changing the subject. "So, you understand, yes? I’m nothing if not a nice guy. Figured you’d like to say what you needed to before we take him off your hands.”

Even the thought terrified Steve, but he refused to believe this man could ever take Peter away from him for good. “How thoughtful.”

“If you keep up your smart ass comments, I’ll make it painful. I’ll make sure his last breath on earth is a scream.”

Steve didn't want to punch him. 

No. 

Steve wanted to  _ kill  _ him.

Foolishly, he took Steve's silence as compliance. “There you go! That’s not so hard. Keep up your good behavior, when the time comes I’ll let you pick up how he goes. That’ll be fun.”

With one last wink, he ruffled Peter's hair and grinned. "I'll see you later, buddy." 

"Get the fuck out of here." 

Nice Guy blew a kiss to Steve before standing up and heading towards the door. He glanced back before shutting the door. "Enjoy your last night." 

Then the door was shut and Steve was alone with Peter. Peter and his thoughts. Should he let him sleep? Should he wake him up? And if he woke him up, should he tell Peter what was happening? 

No...nothing was happening. 

Peter wasn't-- they weren't going to...Peter wasn't dying tomorrow. 

There was nothing to tell him. 

Right? 

Still, if this were their last hours together, he wanted to hear his voice one more time. So, he shook Peter's shoulder softly. “Hey, Pete…come on. Baby boy, wake up…”

Peter groaned as he blinked his eyes open, squinting up at Steve. “D-Daddy?”

Steve bit his lip. "...no.”

The confusion didn't seem to leave Peter's face. “Oh-- Pops-- sorry..” He winced as he shifted. “Just heard the name and thought we were home…"

Peter felt someone grab his heart and squeeze it. "Yeah…”

Peter blinked his eyes a few times, but they were still glassy and unfocused. “You 'kay?”

"No, but--.”

Peter cut him off before Steve could even finish. “Right-- stupid question. Sorry…”

Steve shook his head. "Don’t be. Listen...I love you.”

Peter's lips barely curled into a smile. "I love you too, Papa.”

Steve shut his eyes. Peter had to know he meant it. “I love you so much.”

“I love you more," Peter replied just like he always did. 

“I love you most." 

Peter smiled a little bigger as his eyelids drooped. “No, you don’t. Not as much as I love you.”

Steve carefully cradles his face, hating how hot his skin felt in his touch. His baby was burning up, probably from an infection and there was nothing he could do to help him. “I find that so hard to believe." He stared down at him for a few seconds, just wishing he had more time with this boy. "You know….you’ve made my life so much happier. So much more than I ever thought it could be.”

“Yeah...you’ve made my life good too. The best…Pops, what’s going on?” Of course, Peter asked that question with a frown on his face. He may have been getting delirious from the fever, but he wasn't stupid.

“Bear, I just want you to know how much I love you. You mean the world to me. And I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.” Steve felt a lump lodge itself in his throat. 

“Don’t say that...please...because that means you believe it and it couldn’t be further from the truth.” 

Steve shook his head, silencing Peter's rambles. “You’re too sweet, Pete.”

"I mean it. Don’t let them ruin it...you’re the best Pops I could ever have. Ever." 

Steve felt his eyes burning as tears started to cloud his vision. He tried to blink them away. Dammit, he wasted to see his boy.

"You always know how to make me feel better. You make me smile. You’re my best buddy. You’re my Papa Bear.” Peter tried to give him another smile.

“Pete…”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too." Peter huffed slightly and repeated, "Pops, what happened?”

Steve shook his head again. He didn't want to say it. He couldn't say it. 

“Something’s wrong...I can help you feel better. We’re in this together…” Peter tried to hold Steve's hand in his, but it took him a few tries. Again, his skin burned Steve. 

Even if they didn't kill Peter. His infection just might. Steve felt a tear escape his eye, but he didn't bother to wipe it away.

Peter winced as he sat up. He was in pain because his back was shredded. “I’m okay, Pops...if you’re worried about what-- I can barely feel it anymore. I just needed a little nap.”

Steve bursted out a sob. 

Peter's eyes widened and his breath hitched. Steve rarely teared up in front of him, let alone sobbed this hard. He squeezed his hand in an attempt to comfort him. “Hey, it’s okay, Papa. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Steve continued to sob, unable to quiet his cries even slightly. Unknowingly, Peter's reassurances only made it all worse. 

“It is! Dad is gonna be here soon...and we’re gonna go home! Maybe he’s on his way right now! We’ll be back home and safe by tomorrow! And...and then we can go back to normal. Eating pancakes, doing puzzles-- we still gotta fix up Phoenix. It’s gonna be okay, Papa.”

Steve leaned forward and kissed Peter’s forehead. God, he had to be over 100°. “I love you so much.”

"Why do you keep saying that?”

Steve couldn't hide it anymore from Peter. “Tonight...may be our--.” Steve let out another sob.

"Our what?”

“Our last night.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut after he spat that out. 

“Our last night? You think we’re getting out?” Peter parked up in excitement. 

Steve choked on his sobs and pulled his baby closer, unable to get any words out. 

"My back isn’t that bad, Papa," Peter said, despite the obvious pain in his voice. "I can make it through one more night here...and I’ll be able to keep up in the escape. I promise.”

The sobs only continued. “Peter-- I love you.”

"Pops, I know...I love you too. But, what’s wrong?”

"It's our last night-- together," Steve corrected.

Peter froze and his glassy eyes grew wide. “No...you adopted me-- I’m not letting go that easy. You’re stuck with me...remember?"

Steve wiped the tears from his face, only for more to fall. “I mean they might y--us…”

“No. They wouldn’t...you said so, remember? They need us.”

“He said--.”

Peter didn't want to wait for Steve to finish. “He said he’s done with us? But-- just lie-- stall...tell him you have Captain America secrets.”

Steve hugged onto him, pressing his lips against his sweaty curls on the top of his head.

Peter hugged him tightly back. “Don’t worry, Pops. They’d be crazy to kill us. Then they wouldn’t have information or leverage on Dad.”

The sobbing never stopped.

"...Do you really think they will?”

"I dunno, bear….he seemed-- intent.” Steve sniffled, trying to control his sobs.

"You survived 70 years in ice-- I don’t think he’ll be able to get to you. And I’m his favorite punching bag...so I think he’ll keep us around…" 

He tried cracking a smile, but Steve wasn't impressed. 

"Just trying to get you to smile..I don’t liker seeing you cry. Makes me so sad. I just want you to be happy.”

Steve looked away to wipe his tears. He didn't want Peter's last memories of him to be him sobbing. 

Peter stared at him like he'd seen a ghost. “I’ve never seen you so upset…”

Steve glanced down at him. “Pathetic, huh?”

Peter's answer was immediate. "I don’t think so. The opposite, actually. Look at everything they put you through...and you’re still up and kicking. That’s really brave. Another reason to look up to you.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

Peter sighed. “It’s gonna take some time, but you’re gonna believe me soon.” 

“Right…” Take some time? Peter didn't have time.

Peter deflated a bit, growing somber. "You really think it’s our last night together?"

Steve jerked his head in a small.nod. “I don’t-- I don’t know-- I mean...I don’t want it to be but…”

"Yeah…” Peter paused. “Well, if this is it…” Hs smiled up at Steve even though he was close to crying. “Then, I guess...thank you. Thank you for being the best Pops...and we didn’t get enough time together, but it feels like I’ve been your boy for years. You’re always there for me...and you always showed me the way to be a man--.” His voice cracked. “And I may not get the chance to try it out...but thank you.”

Steve looked away because he was crying so hard. Peter shouldn't have to be talking like this. His delirium was only making it worse.

“I’m glad my last night is with you. Wouldn’t have minded Dad, Harry and the pets...but at least you’re here…”

“I'm sorry," Steve said as his voice choked on a sob.

“For what?”

Steve pressed a kiss to his head in response.

“Papa, you don’t have anything to be sorry for."

"I love you," Steve said again because he could never say it enough in a moment like this.

Peter cuddled up close, not caring about his back. “Do you remember the night we made that bet that I couldn’t be normal for the entire day? Technically the morning had already started since it was like 1, but we didn’t want to stop cuddling so we slept on the floor like that?”

Steve nodded, the memory as fresh as it was when it happened. 

“I wish I could rewind...or maybe to the night we put my glow in the dark star stickers up on my ceiling!” He went quiet. “There aren't any stars here. Think they’ll let us outside to at least see them one more time?”

Steve wiped more tears away. “I dunno..”

“Hope so...took ‘em for granted.”

Steve hesitated a moment. “I hope Dodger’s okay.” He failed to hold back a sob. “I mean-- I know Dad is--But Dodger, I don’t--.”

"What’s wrong with Dodger?" 

“Last time I saw him was on our run and they just kicked him aside. I hope he’s alright.”

“I’m sure he is...probably ran home to get some help.”

“Like Lassie.”

“I’ve never seen that," Peter admitted. 

“It’s old. Came out after I went in the ice, but still- old.”

“Was gonna say, if it’s old, that’s why you’ve seen it.” Peter tried to joke it all away, but the slurring in his words was too much too forget. 

Steve chuckled anyway.

"Despite all this...I think we’re both lucky. Sure, there’s a lot more that we could have done, but I wouldn’t trade this short year for a million more.”

"Neither would I…”Steve agreed. 

“I’m sorry…” Peter said so suddenly, sounding like he was close to breaking down.

"What for…?” Steve asked, struggling to keep up with Peter's fever riddled mind.

Peter cried some more. “For putting that picture on Nonna’s grave-- If I didn’t, then we wouldn’t be here.”

“Stop," Steve said immediately. 

"It’s all my fault though," he sobbed miserably. "I shouldn’t have been so dumb.”

Steve furrowed his brow and asked, “How is that being dumb? You were paying your respects. You could have never predicted this.”

“I should have known someone would have gone to the grave, especially after their anniversary.”

Steve shook his head even though Peter's eyes were squeezed shut.

“I just...forgot...and now…” He pulled the picture out of his pocket. It was much more wrinkled that it has been when Nice Guy dropped it the first day. Peter must have gripped it tightly some nights...at least the nights when he still had the strength to. “At least we can look at it one last time.”

Steve just stared down at it, wishing he could turn back time to the day it was taken. 

After a few moments of them both just staring at the picture, Peter whispered, “Hey, Papa…"

Steve tried to answer in a strong voice, “Yeah?"

"Will it hurt?”

Dear God, if Steve's heart was still beating in his chest, hearing those words from his baby's mouth sent it plummeting into his stomach. He was barely able to speak when he replied, “I don’t know…”

Peter started sobbing again, turning his face against Steve. God, his skin was so fucking hot. It was burning him through his shirt. “I’m tired of hurting! I just--...I don’t want it to hurt anymore.”

Steve pressed a kiss to his head again and left his lips there as he whispered into his curls. "I wish I could take the hurt away, sweetie. I would do anything." 

But Peter didn't hear him. "I wish they’d do it before I woke up...so the last thing I remembered was falling asleep in your arms.”

Steve didn't want to hear any of this. He didn't want Peter planning how he was going to be killed. He should be home in bed with Tessa, maybe snuggled in a Dad Sandwich with him and Tony.

“I’m sorry for how I used to be...I wasn’t always the best son. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“No one is perfect," Steve said immediately. Of course, they'd had their moments, but Steve didn't want Peter to remember those. He wanted him to remember The Good. "But I do believe you were always the best son I could ask for.”

"You mean it?” Peter sniffled loudly. 

"I meant what I said," Steve started. 

“You said you meant." 

“An elephant’s faithful one hundred percent," Steve finished in a soft voice. 

Peter cuddled up closer and when he spoke again, there was something strange about his voice. He sounded too accepting of what was happening. He wasn't the defiant and stubborn boy he knew. “I’m not scared...I think there’s something after. Don't know what, but I know I’ll see you there. So we’ll be together again soon.”

Steve bit his lip so hard he tasted blood in his mouth. They didn't plan on killing Steve. Not yet. So, Peter would be waiting alone for a bit. But not too long if he had any say in the matter. 

_ No.  _

He couldn't do that to Tony. 

But could he live without Peter?

Peter suddenly grabbed his hand and that distracted Steve from his thoughts. “Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my Soul to keep. If I should die before I ‘wake, I pray the Lord my Soul to take.”

He stumbled over a few lines and slurred many of the words, but the effort was there. Peter, a kid that Steve knew didn't put an ounce of faith in God before he met him, had learned a prayer. He had been to masses with Steve sometimes because Peter was the type of kid that cared about things people he loved cared about. He wanted to learn. He wanted to understand. 

“I learned that for you-- it’s a popular bedtime prayer...I think…" It hurt Steve's heart to hear how  _ out of it  _ Peter sounded. "Did I say it right?”

Steve nodded.

"Hey, Papa…” Peter said again and Steve didn't care if he kept starting conversations like that. He wanted to hear Peter say his name as many times as he could. 

"Hey, sweetie…”

"Can you sing to me? One more time…”

Steve’s voice shook. “What song?”

"Dunno...just wanna hear your voice." 

Steve knew if Peter's mind was clear then he would have requested his favorite lullaby. So Steve sang that one for him, “Somewhere...over the rainbow...way up high...there’s a land that I’ve heard of...once in a lullaby. Somewhere over the rainbow...skies are blue. And the dreams that you dare to dream...really do come true...Someday I’ll wish upon a star--.” 

Steve was struggling to sing through the lump in his throat. He wasn't sure if he was able to keep it up, but he refused to stop. If Peter wanted to hear him sing and if this was the last time he would, Steve was going to finish the song. 

“Where the clouds are far behind me. Where-- troubles melt like lemon drops..way above the chimney tops...That’s where you’ll find me..somewhere over the rainbow...blue birds fly. Why then-- oh why can’t I? Somewhere over the rainbow..bluebirds fly...why then oh why, can’t I? If happy little bluebirds fly..beyond the rainbow-- why...can’t I?”

The lyrics were too real. It was their exact situation. Steve wished he could hold Peter tight and fly them far far away from this hell. 

But he couldn't. 

And despite Steve failing him, Peter still whispered, “Thank you…”

"Of course, muffin.”

Peter fixed himself so his ear was pressed closer to Steve's chest. He was listening to Steve's heart and Steve wasn't letting him go anywhere now. 

"I love you, Peter." 

"I love you too, Papa." 

And if those were the last words he heard his son say, he'd be okay with that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried every time editing and writing that. I'm sorry. Yes we really did that to them. No we can't believe it either. 
> 
> This is the end of the kidnapping part. Now its recovery time and don't worry, it won't be easy


	8. day seven

Tony woke up with Peter curled in his arms. Tony smiled and pulled him closer, feeling his hair tickling him just under his nose. Peter was awake, Tony guessed because he felt his hands holding on tight to his shirt.  But just because both of them were awake didn’t mean that they had to get up any time soon. He began to rub Peter’s back softly and hummed under his breath for a few minutes. Peter felt tense in his arms no matter how much he comforted him. 

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony whispered, kissing the top of his head. “Dad’s right here.” 

“Uh, Dad…” 

Tony froze. That was not Peter. His eyes shot open and he stared down at the kid that was squished on the couch with him. “Harry?”

Harry gave him a sad smile. “Morning, Dad.” 

Tony let go of Harry and jumped off of the couch as if he’d been burned by the kid. He thought that was Peter-- how did he forget Peter was gone? How could he just forget his son was being held captive and torture somewhere. He sucked in a quick breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Hey, Dad…” Harry said softly, standing up and holding out his hands as if Tony were a wild animal. “Dad, it’s alright. It’s okay.” 

“Peter-- I thought-- but-- he--.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Tony looked up at Harry with wide eyes. He just stared at him for a few seconds before he felt his knees start to shake. Peter wasn't here. Peter was in some creep's basement, just waiting for Tony to rescue him.

_Maybe_ he was.

There was only one alarm that went off, so that meant one of them was still picking up a signal. It was just not showing them  _ where.  _ The feeds were so messed up that he couldn't even tell if it was Steve or Peter's vitals that were no longer found. 

God, what if only one of them was left? What would he do if he got there to save them, walked into the room and only one of them was in there? 

Before his mind could start racing any more, Harry came over and grabbed his hands. His voice was calm and steady, unlike Tony's heart. "It's going to be okay. We're going to get them back." 

"I-- I shouldn't have fallen asleep. Not before they're home." 

"You need rest. You  _ needed  _ that." 

"They're not home yet." Tony shook his head. 

"Not yet," Harry emphasized. "But soon." He paused. "Why don't we try cracking through their firewall again? We were close last time. We were." 

“What if we can’t--?”

Harry didn’t let him finish that sentence. “But what if  _ we can?” _

Just the thought of it working, of them finding Peter and Steve and bringing them home, had Tony’s heart stuttering. He wanted them home in his arms again. 

Harry smiled softly. He took Tony’s silence as enough of an answer. “Yeah. I know. So, why don’t we head over there and figure it out? Maybe in a few hours we’ll have it cracked.” 

“But, what if we’re getting our hopes up for nothing?” Tony asked in a stronger voice this time so Harry let him finish. 

“”We’re not. Because we’re going to bring them home.” Harry started pulling him towards the station they had set up. “Now come and help me. I can’t do it alone.” 

Tony sat down with a huff and started to work at the same shit they’d been dealing with for the past week. They always got just close enough to almost get the true location when the system spazzed and all of the duplicates popped up again. Whoever the hell had them was smart enough to trick even Tony Stark. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said when that happened yet again. “We’ll just keep pushing. Maybe weaken the defenses. We just gotta focus on one section and then move to the next. Looking at all of the country is too much.” 

Tony knew this and he knew that Harry knew he knew this, but he was just trying to keep him calm and their hopes up. But Tony wasn’t really all that optimistic. Especially with their track record and only one of them waiting. 

He didn’t want to think about only one of their vitals being read meaning one of them was gone, but that’s where his mind kept. And while he had no idea which one it was, Tony guessed it had to be Steve. There was no way Peter would be dead with Steve still alive. Tony  _ knew  _ his husband would rather die than ever let anything happen to Peter. 

So if Peter was the only left over there Tony knew he couldn’t leave him. He had to bring him home. No matter how much it would hurt to leave Steve there. 

He just had to bring him home. There was no ‘what if’s. Tony couldn’t let there be. Steve probably died keeping their boy safe and now it was Tony’s turn to keep Peter safe. He had to bring him home. He’d do anything to bring him home. 

“--Dad! Dad--  _ Tony!”  _

Tony blinked his eyes and turned to glance over at Harry, who was now much closer than he was only moments ago. He was supposed to be sitting by his laptop, working at his own station. “What?”

“You did it-- look!” Harry sounded like he was crying. “You cracked the freakin’ code! I knew it-- I knew it!” 

Tony’s eyes adjusted to the screen that he had apparently been staring at for the past half hour while his thoughts ran wild. There was one location blinking, only one, showing them exactly where Peter and Steve were. Finally. 

Tony shoved himself backwards so quickly that the chair crashed to its side and Tony almost followed with it, but Harry grabbed onto him and held him up. “Thanks, Hare,” he said, before brushing him off and turning to the ceiling. “FRI, be a dear and deploy a suit. I don’t care wh-- actually the fastest one. Whichever can get me to Bumfuck, Long Island and back in record time.” 

_ “Yes, boss.”  _

Within seconds, a suit was engulfing him and he was ready to go. The coordinates were already programmed and displayed on the HUD. “Harry, I’m going to send a signal to the med team so they can prepare for--.” He stopped because he wasn’t sure exactly what they were supposed to prepare for. “Get to the medbay and I’ll be back soon. Just help them if they need anything.” 

Harry nodded and ran off just as Tony turned and took the suit out the balcony. “I’m coming,” he promised. He didn’t know who he was promising, but he was promising someone. Whichever was left. “I’ll bring you home.” 

Tony didn’t stop his flight at all. Not even to survey the area the GPS led him to before he busted through the wall. Literally. He was in a room with a chair in the middle of the room but nothing else. No one was sitting in the chair, but there were discarded chains on the floor. Tony’s stomach rolled, wondering who had been in that chair as he hurried out of the room and into the hallway. 

“FRI, scan for body heat signatures please.” 

Immediately, there was a huddle of red and orange shown in a nearby room. He didn’t know who it was, but he was either bringing them home (if they were his boys) or killing them (if they were anyone else). Maybe it was one of each. Maybe they were hurting one of them right now and he was just standing here. 

Tony surged forward and once again, he didn’t hesitate before crashing through the door. He wasn’t even sure if it was locked and he could have opened it. He wanted to make an entrance. Before the dust could settle and Tony could see who was there, he heard them. Or, one of them. 

“Tony…”

That was Steve. So if Steve was okay and one of their locators had gone dead, then that meant that Peter-- Tony’s heart pounded against his chest as he stomped over in the suit and even when he saw the small bundle in his lap, his heart didn’t calm. Peter was there. That was his baby. But was he alive? Was his heart still beating? Did he want to know?

“Love, hey, yeah, it’s me.” His eyes were still on Peter. His baby boy. His unresponsive baby boy. 

Steve’s voice was low and just barely audible. “It’s you-- you’re here. I’m not dreaming, am I?”

Tony kneeled next to him and shook his head. “You’re not dreaming, baby. I’m here. It’s me.”

Steve reached out a shaky hand and Tony took it as he whispered, “Hand.”

“It’s you,” Steve said in a small voice as his lips quirked up in a small smile. 

“It’s me, vita mio, it’s me.”

After that, something settled in Steve’s eyes. “Hey-- hey, here--.” He moved Peter closer to Tony. “Take him.”

Peter let out a whine and Tony breathed out a small sigh of relief. Peter was alive. “Oh, bubs-- we gotta get both of you out of here.”

Steve’s voice was stern. “Take him first-- get him out of here.”

“What about you?” Tony asked, his head snapping up to stare at his husband. 

Despite the worry in Tony’s voice, Steve just shook his head. “Take him. Please. Him first.”

“P-papa,” Peter whined again, tightening his hold on Steve. 

Tony didn’t want to leave Steve here either, but he could only get one of them out of here at a time and by the looks of it, Peter needed it more. And there was always that unspoken rule between a set of parents...saving the child  _ always  _ came first. 

Peter, obviously, was not a fan of that idea. “Wait-- don’t go without Papa.” 

Steve looked down at him and said, “Peter, go with him.”

“Bubba, it’s okay,” Tony joined, attempting to calm Peter down. “I’m going to get you both home.”

“Can’t leave him,” Peter protested in a panic. 

All three of them were freaking out and they still weren’t out of the woods. They weren’t out of this hellhole yet and they hadn’t even started to assess their injuries. But despite all of this, Steve still managed to keep his voice soft for Peter. “Hush, sweetie, it’s gonna be okay. Papa’s gonna be okay.”

Finally, Peter acknowledged Tony. But in doing so, he almost broke him right there. “D-daddy, please don’t leave him-- please.”

“I’m not leaving him, bambino.” He wished he could have offered even half the comfort it looked like Steve was giving him. “We are gonna get both of you home safe.”

“Go with him, Pete,” Steve urged their boy before turning to Tony. “Get him safe, love.”

“Papa--.”

“I love you, Pete.” Steve leaned forward, gave him a smile and a kiss before pulling himself out of Peter’s grip.

Tony stood up and started to walk back out of the room, unsure of what to say. Nothing could make this any easier. Neither listening to Peter cry as he dragged him away from Steve or leaving Steve behind. 

“Papa!” Peter screamed so loud that Tony was afraid he was going to catch someone’s attention. He had to get them out of there now or else he wouldn’t be able to come back and save Steve. 

“Take him. Go now!”

Tony nodded and hurried out of the room and down the hall he came through as Peter wailed. “No! Stop-- don’t go! Pops!”

Tony attempted to calm him down, but he knew it wouldn’t work. “It’s okay, bubs. I’m gonna get you both to safety. I need to get you out first though.”

The tears and snot were running down Peter’s face, but he didn’t seem to care. “Dad-- please-- we can’t leave him. We can’t!”

“Baby, I’m gonna get him too. Don’t worry.” He looked ahead as he flew into the air, headed back home. He couldn’t look at Peter unless he wanted his heart to break some more. 

“I’m okay! Go get Pops! You can’t leave him there!” He tried hitting his hands against Tony’s armor, but he was too weak to even make a sound. 

“We aren’t leaving him there, bubs. It’s okay.”  _ Come on, FRIDAY. Faster.  _

“We are! He’s there all alone! They’re gonna kill him-- please go back!” Even over the wind, Tony could hear Peter crying as clear as day. 

“They aren’t gonna hurt him, bubs.” Tony didn’t know that. Not really. He just knew that he was Steve’s only hope and he had to hurry. 

After a few more failed hits on his chest plate, Peter dropped his arms and started sobbing. 

Tony felt tears of his own dripping down his cheeks. “Shh, it’s okay, baby boy.”

Peter raised his arms not to hit Tony but to hug him tight. “I want Papa home.”

“He will come home.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“He will,” Tony repeated. 

“We need him, Dad,” Peter said as if he didn’t even hear Tony. “He needs to come home.”

“He’s going to. Don’t worry.”

After that, Peter didn’t say a word through the flight. He just continued to cry in Tony’s arms. Even when he flew them into the tower and brought him straight to the medbay, he was still upset and screaming. “Get Pops now! Go get him!” 

“Pete, just give me a minute to get you set up--.” 

“Go get Pops!” 

Harry was there, waiting, but when he saw the state that Peter was in, his eyes widened and he took a step back. Tony didn’t blame him. Peter was screaming and thrashing and he was covered in his bruises and blood and his clothes were torn and filthy. He didn’t look like Peter. 

“We’re going to have to sedate him,” one of the doctors said as Peter’s flailing fist just nearly hit her. 

Tony didn’t want to have to drug his son to calm him down, but he knew that was the only way they were going to help him. He was inconsolable. So he nodded his head. “I’ll hold him just-- do it.” 

“Dad, don’t!” Harry said, taking a step forward with fear in his eyes. 

“I have to, Harry. He’s going to die if we can’t treat him.” 

Harry covered his mouth as his eyes welled with tears. When a doctor came over with the needle, he looked away. Tony wished he could look away too, but he had to hold him close so that the doctor could inject Peter with the sedative without him noticing. 

Peter didn’t even notice the needle, he was panicking so much and when the doctor nodded her head, Tony carried him over to the cot and laid him down. He was already starting to drift off, but Tony wanted him to know he was safe before he did. 

Lifting up his mask, so Peter could see his face, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. It burned his lips. “You’re okay, Petey. I’m getting Pops and I”m bringing him home and it’s all going to be okay.” 

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut with one last whimper and then the doctors and nurses all got into action. Turning to Harry, Tony said, “I will be right back, Harry. I promised. It’s going to be okay.” 

For once in all of this, Harry needed some reassuring too. 

Then, Tony was back out in the sky. It was time to bring his other baby home. 

**\--**

Steve wasn’t sure if Tony was coming back in time. But he was sure that Peter was home safe now and that was all that mattered. Steve didn’t care about anything else. So as he sat on the cold ground with his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, he didn’t care when the man came back in screaming. 

“What the  _ fuck?!”  _

Steve just lifted his head up slightly and raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

“What--?” He looked around the destroyed room. “Where is he?!”

“Gone.” Steve smiled. He remembered Nice Guy asking him the same question days ago, but this time, the answer was true. Peter was gone and these assholes weren’t touching him again. 

Nice Guy stormed over, his voice booming. Steve had never seen him so furious. It made him smile ever more. “Do you think this is some kind of fucking game?!”

“Why? Am I winning?” Steve asked as he cocked his head to the side. 

Nice Guy growled and sent his foot flying to kick Steve. He fell to his side, caught off guard by it. “You’re still here. In my control. Does it  _ look _ like you’re winning?”

“I dunno. You seem pretty pissy.” 

Steve’s nonchalance with everything only had him getting even more frustrated. “I told you I had a plan!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not a good one, obviously.”

Nice Guy kneeled down and grabbed Steve by his hair. “It doesn’t matter if you got him out. You and I both saw the shape he was in. Let’s see how long he can last.”

“Doctors exist, dumbass.”

Nice Guy punched him three times in quick succession. “You think you’re such a smart ass? Well, I guess you’ll never know if the doctors do their job or not. Because  _ you’ll _ be stuck  _ here _ with me…” He smirked. “Until he goes back into the world. When he thinks he’s safe...and then I bring him right back to us.”

Narrowing his eyes, Steve said, “You obviously don’t know who Tony Stark is. He adapts. He won’t let this happen again.”

“I don’t care if it takes years!” He grunted and sent his fist into his face again. “We weren’t done!”

“Then why’d you want to fucking kill him?” Steve argued, spitting blood out to the floor next to him.

“To watch you break!”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Are you? Because I really don’t think you are,” Nice Guy snapped.

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, no. I’m not.”

“Then if I can’t break you, I’ll have to settle on them.” Nice Guy was shaking. There was a crazy look in her eyes. “How do you think your family will react when you don’t make it home to them?”

While the thought broke his heart, it didn’t scare him. Not when he knew they were safe and far from this maniac. “As long as they’re safe.”

“Safe? That’s it? Some life they’re going to live! Your husband, beating himself up for not being able to save you. Going to sleep in an empty bed every night just to remind him!” Nice Guy roared and it wiped the smile right off of Steve’s face. He even laughed. “And your son--imagine how he’s going to feel. They saved him instead of you. You think he’s gonna like living with that? His father is gone. Dead. Because they saved him instead. I’m sure it’ll eat him up alive.” Steve was shaking in rage as Nice Guy shrugged his shoulders. “So, yes, they’ll be safe from me. but that doesn’t sound like a good life.”

Steve couldn’t hold back his anger anymore. A scream tore through his throat as he lunged up and punched him right in his smug face.. 

It caught Nice Guy by surprise to say the least. “What the fuck--?!” Steve tried to push himself back up but Nice Guy was quicker and kicked him to the ground. “Stay down! It’s where you belong!”

Steve attempted to trip him, but all Nice Guy did was stumble. And laugh. “Ha! You’re pathetic! People look up to Captain America? You think  _ your son  _ looks up to you? I’ve been doing nothing but looking down on you your entire stay!”

Steve pulled himself up slowly. He wasn’t up to his normal strength. Not after being beaten and tortured and starved for days. 

“Look at you-- thinking you have a chance against me,” Nice Guy continued to boast. “You’re going to die here and one of the last memories your son will have of you is you crying, begging, and crawling to kiss my boot!”

With another surge of anger, Steve rushed forward to punch him again. 

The fist into his face stopped Nice Guy for a moment but not for good and definitely not long enough. “Not that it matters, really. Even after all your begging, you couldn’t protect him. He was hurt because you couldn’t protect him!”

Steve lunged forward to tackle him. He could feel the anger thrumming beneath his skin. He could kill this man. He could snap him in half like a toothpick. It was what he deserved. 

“Not only did you let him get hurt, but  _ you _ hurt him! For fuck’s sake, you whipped your own son!” Nice Guy let out a manic laugh. “I’m sure your husband will love to know that! So would CPS! They just  _ love _ child abuse!”

Steve screamed and started punching him. He just let it all out. There was no control. He was going to make this man hurt. 

Despite the punches, Nice Guy continued his taunting. “Almost there-- maybe if you really wanted to hurt me, just imagine I’m your son. Will that help,  _ Papa?” _

Steve stopped punching and grabbed a hold of his neck. He started to squeeze. It would be so easy to kill him. He could end it all right here. Make this monster pay for what he did. For what he made Steve do. 

Nice Guy’s hands scratched at Steve’s, but he made no move to let him go. “Do it! What are you waiting for? And then-- you can go back to your son and tell him all about how you killed a man...can’t let him down any more.”

Steve could kill him. He could probably snap his neck in seconds. But what would that do? Would it turn back time? Would it fix all of Peter’s wounds? It would just make him a murderer. Steve wasn’t going to allow himself to sink any lower because of this man. So he sent a few more punches into his face until he was unconscious underneath him. 

Once Steve was sure he wasn’t going to say another word, he pulled himself off and flopped to the ground. He laid there wheezing, trying to ignore the pain tormenting his body. That had wasted away any amount of energy he had. 

There was no reason to hold on now that Peter was safe. If Tony came back for him, great. If not...oh well. 

He laid on his back as his chest heaved up and down, letting his eyes drift shut. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for or if he was even asleep, but what felt like in the next instant, there was someone shaking him awake. “Steve! Get up!” 

Steve wanted to shoot up and protect himself, but he didn’t have the will to. So he laid there. If they wanted to kill him, go ahead. As long as Peter was safe and sound. 

“Steve, baby…” The voice sounded scared. It was crying. And he knew that voice. That was Tony. He was scaring Tony-- hurting him. He was so tired of hurting his family. So he fought against everything else that was begging him to drift off and he opened his eyes.

It took a few tries to get his eyes to stay open but when they did, a lump grew suddenly in his throat. There was an angel staring down at him, cupping his cheek in his hand. It was  _ his  _ angel. 

He couldn’t help the whimper that he let out as he tried to hold onto one of Tony’s hands. 

“I’ve got you, love, It’s okay,” Tony promised, his voice sounding too metallic behind the mask. 

“Wait, love--.” Steve lifted a shaking hand and gently tapped on the faceplate of his armor.

Tony immediately had to go up so that Steve could see his face. His brown eyes were full of worry as tears streamed from them down his cheeks. Steve tugged him down until their faces were close enough for Steve to press his forehead against Tony’s. “Had to be sure.”

“Course, love,” Tony whispered as he lifted Steve in his arms. “Let’s get you home.”

Once Steve was safe in his arms and they were flying far away from that hell, Steve let his eyes flutter closed and he finally let himself sleep for the first time in days. He was safe now. It was going to be okay. 


	9. day seven, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick on because I finslly got the recovery planned out.   
> Of course the fic will take me where it wants but at least I have a path

Steve didn't dream. Maybe that was a good thing. He probably wouldn't have his usual dreams of him holding Tony close in bed, pressing soft kisses to his face before their morning calm was rudely interrupted by a crazy kid jumping up and down on their mattress...and sometimes their legs. 

His dreams would have been nightmares. Peter would just be hurt again over and over in his mind. He'd listen to him crying and screaming again. 

But at least dreams were fake. He could wake up and know it wasn't real. 

Waking up to the nightmare was the problem.

Because when he shot up, hearing Peter's screeching, there was no waking up to make it go away. Steve couldn't even see through his blurred vision as he desperately blinked his eyes open, but he was pushing himself out of the bed. He felt stinging in his arms and he knew he had to have ripped out IVs. 

"Captain Rogers, you need to stop!" He heard a voice yell at him over Peter's screams. He ignored them. 

He blinked his eyes a few more times until everything was clearer. He saw Peter in a hospital bed, struggling against doctors that were trying to hold him down. 

Peter just kept screaming until he didn't have the breath to continue. Then he started all over again. 

"My son!" Steve gasped when someone tried to pull him back to the bed.

"We're taking good care of him, sir. I promise." Hands were pulling him backwards and Steve found himself unable to fight them.

Peter let out another scream. Worse than any scream he made in that cell. Steve felt his eyes start to burn. He couldn't tell if Peter's cries were from pain or fear. Probably both. 

"Love, he's okay. They have to keep treating his wounds." That was Tony that pressed a kiss to his temple.

Steve knew he was safe if Tony was here and not worried, but hearing Peter scream his throat raw still hurt his heart.

"Papa, please!" Peter sobbed after he spent a few seconds trying to catch his breath. 

That was all Steve needed to hear to start struggling again. He heard something fall next to him and there weren't any hands on his left arm anymore. 

"Mr. Stark, you need to control your husband!" 

"Steve! Baby, c'mon...you need to calm down." 

"Peter needs me!" Steve tried to take another step forward, but then there was a sharp pinch in his neck and his legs could no longer hold his weight. 

He heard Tony's voice in his ears as darkness started to cover his vision. "It's okay, sweetheart. Peter's okay." 

Steve succumbed to the darkness before he could see if Peter really was okay. 

\--

The next time Steve was awake, he shot up in bed. The room was too quiet. He couldn't hear any cruel laughter. He couldn't hear Peter crying. 

It was too quiet. 

His eyes scanned around the room and even though this wasn't the cell they were stuck in, he didn't remember the past few hours until his eyes landed on Peter. 

He was asleep in a bed next to him, only a few feet away. He was on his side, his back facing the opposite wall as Harry held his hand. Harry was asleep as well, his head resting on the mattress. 

"Love, look at me," Tony's voice broke through the rushing filling his eardrums. Once he did, Tony smiled, his shoulders relaxing. 

"Tony," Steve croaked, moving his hand to try and find Tony's. 

"You're okay, Steve. You both are. We're in the tower. The doctors are taking care of you both." Tony grabbed his hand and began to caress it soothingly. But Steve knew his husband. He knew that look in his eyes. 

"What's wrong? Is Peter okay?" He whipped his head to the side to check Peter out again. He looked just as beat up and pale as before, but he was covered in bandages now and cleaner. 

"Steve, they're doing their--." 

"Tony, is Peter okay?" Steve repeated. He didn't want a bullshit answer. He wanted the truth. 

Sighing, Tony answered, "He will be." He paused, but Steve waited for him to continue. "He's been running a fever. They're trying to get it down and keep it down." 

Steve knew that. He felt the kid burning him up the entire time he held him those last few hours. "Infections. The wounds-- he's got on on his abdomen." 

Tony nodded his head. "They took care of them." Clenching his jaw, he said, "They took the thread out. Cleaned up the puss and dried blood and dirt...and they flushed the wound. Did the same for the gashes on his back as well." 

Steve went quiet. Tony saw his back. He knew. 

"God, they tore it up. It was just a mess-- who does that to a kid? Who whips a fucking child?" 

Steve pulled his hand out of Tony's hold as his heart started to race.  _ I did. I whipped our child.  _

Tony confused his panic for something else and inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't mean-- I won't bring it up. I know you had to see it. I'm sorry." 

Steve had to see it every time he shut his damn eyes. 

Clearing his throat, Tony continued, "Few hundred stitches on his back and stomach. They cleaned up the burns on his arms--." 

Steve furrowed his brow and looked up at him. "Burns?" 

Tony hesitated. "There are almost a dozen small burns on his arms. Look like cigarette burns." 

Steve blew out all the air from his lungs and a whimper followed. Steve didn't know that. He didn't see them do that. They burned him. His poor baby.

"Hey, hey," Tony whispered. "It's okay. They put some ointment on them and they should heal soon." 

Steve hardened his eyes as he snapped, "How is  _ any  _ of this  _ okay?  _ They burned my fucking son-- they stabbed him and I--."  _ I whipped him.  _ "I couldn't protect him. That is the  _ opposite  _ of okay." 

Tony's face pinched in discomfort. "It's not okay...but it happened. And now all we can do is take care of him. Take care of both of you. You've got a few stitches of your own. Cracked ribs. Concussion." 

"It doesn't matter." 

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Yes, it does. You matter too." 

"What else is wrong with Peter? Anything else?" Steve pressed on. 

"They had to drain some fluid from his lungs." Tony's voice was tight and his face was pale. "They want to keep any eye on that in case of any infections, pneumonia, or dry drowning."

Steve fell back on his pillow, staring up at the ceiling as his eyes burned. He didn't want Tony to see him cry. Not anymore than he already had. 

"Steve…"

"M-my mom-- she died--."  _ Of pneumonia.  _

There was a hand holding his again. "They're watching him. He's doing so much better, Steve. Our boy is strong. You know he is." 

Steve didn't answer right away. He couldn't. It took him a few minutes to swallow down the lump in his throat before he could speak. He didn't want to seem even more pathetic in front of Tony. 

When he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet, Tony probably had to strain his ears to listen. "When can I get out of here?" 

"I'm not sure...you're both severely dehydrated and malnourished. We need to get you stable. Normal." 

That had Steve snapping up. Again. "Has he eaten? Did anyone give him food?"

Tony jumped slightly at Steve's sudden interrogation. "He hasn't been coherent enough to eat, Steve. Once he wakes up, you'll both eat. Don't worry." 

"He  _ needs  _ to eat." 

"Yes. And so do you." Tony pulled out his phone and started to type out something with one hand. "I'll get something up here for you now." 

"I'm not eating Peter's food." 

Tony furrowed his brow. "You're not eating his food. It's  _ yours.  _ We have plenty for both of you." 

"I'm not eating until he does," Steve argued. They'd have to stick a damn feeding tube in his stomach if they wanted him to eat while Peter was still asleep. 

"Okay," Tony agreed after a moment of hesitation. He put his phone away again. "No eating until Peter is awake. That's fair as long as you do one thing for me." 

"Hm?"

"Tell me the truth. Does anything hurt? Can I get anything  _ for you?"  _

His head was pounding. His knuckles ached. His ribs burned. 

"I'm okay." 

"You promise?" 

"Yeah." 

Tony leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek. "You wanna try to get some real sleep then while Peter's still out? Doc says you're sleep deprived too." 

Steve didn't want to sleep because then he'd have to shut his eyes and then he'd have to see...things. But staying awake meant looking at Tony as he watched him with his pity filled eyes. 

Steve didn't want to be pitied. 

"Fine. But wake me up when Pete is up." 

"I will. Promise." Tony pressed a kiss to his forehead as he laid back down. He fixed the blanket around him. "I'll be right here." 

\--

When Peter woke up, Steve kept his eyes shut. 

\--

He'd had his eyes closed for God knew how long. He lost his sense of time ever since he was locked in that room. He still had to ask Tony how long they'd been gone.

Tony didn't move from his spot. He didn't let go of his hand. 

Steve knew because he laid there, awake. His eyes stayed shut and he did everything he could to not see Peter on the ground, bleeding from the wounds in his back. The ones Steve gave him. 

Again, Steve wasn't sure how long it had been, but eventually, the silence in the room was replaced with beautiful commotion. 

"Pete, hey...it's okay." That was Harry. 

A garbled moan. That was Peter. 

"Oh, my God-- is he up?" That was Tony. 

"Yeah!" Harry let out a relieved laugh. "He's getting up! His eyes are open and he's looking up--." 

Peter let out a pained whimper. 

"Oh, baby, I'll be right there." Then there was a hand on his shoulder. "Steve. Love, wake up. Peter's awake." 

Steve should have jumped out of bed and made sure Peter was okay. He wanted to. But he couldn't face him. Peter was probably crying in that bed because he couldn't lay down without being in pain. 

That was undeniably Steve's fault. 

And Steve wanted to see his baby. He wanted to hold him now that they knew they were safe and sound. But he couldn't. Not yet. 

So he kept his eyes closed. 

"Steve, babe...Pete's awake." 

Peter let out a louder whimper. 

"Alright, baby boy. I'll be right there." Tony hesitated before pressing a kiss to the top of Steve's head. Then the presence next to him was gone and Steve was alone. 

"You're okay, bambino." 

"M-my back," he cried. "H-hurts." 

"Let's move you off your back, yeah?" Tony's voice was soft. 

"B-but, but my stomach too!" Peter cried out and Steve's heart ached. His baby was in so much pain and Steve was too pathetic to comfort him. 

"How about we turn you to your side then? The side without the stitches in your stomach. Curl up and I'll get up there with you. Or Harry. Or maybe both of us can fit." 

Once upon a time, Steve would have been trying to squeeze onto that bed too. 

"Move me-- please."

"Okay, I've got you," Tony said before it sounded like he was moving Peter to his side. Then Peter let out a pained breath of relief. 

Pained because Steve hurt him. 

"Hare, can you get the doctor back in here? Peter needs more morphine." 

"Of course. I'll be right back." Steve heard Harry's sneakers run past him, squeaking against the tiled floor. 

Thinking they were alone, Tony began to whisper to Peter, "It's alright, baby. Daddy's here. Papa's right next to you. You're both here and I won't let you get hurt again." 

Peter was quiet except for a whimper here or there. 

"I'd sing you a lullaby to help calm you down, but that's more of Pops' thing. How about I play with your hair?" 

Peter's breathing turned frantic as he wheezed out a plea not to. 

"Okay, okay," Tony amended. "No hair playing. I'm sorry." His voice sounded confused and broken. Why would Peter turn down Tony playing with his hair when that was his favorite thing in the world? Because of the asshole that constantly ruffled his hair like a pet every damn day. 

"I'm still here, bambino. Not going anywhere. Neither is Papa. You're safe." 

_ But he wasn't. He wasn't safe anywhere  _

\--

Steve managed to doze off, but crying woke him up. 

That didn't scare him. 

That was normal now.

But the cries weren't full of pain. They were just… _ cries.  _

The kind of crying that Steve comforted when Peter was having a bad day or when he woke up from a nightmare. 

Tony was the one comforting him now. Or well, attempting. 

"Pete, calm down. You need to take a breath before you pass out." 

"Where is he? Where is he?" Peter was outright sobbing now. Who was he looking for? Was he scared that man was coming back? Probably. 

"Baby, he's right next to you. Look. He's sleeping in bed." 

Was he looking for Harry? Harry was climbing into bed with him the last time he remembered. 

"Papa! I need my Papa!" 

Oh-- oh…

"Papa is asleep, Peter. Like you should be." Tony's voice was firmer than it was before. 

"He keeps squirming, Dad. I can't get him to stay still." There was Harry. 

"I don't want to sedate him anymore. He's already got so much pain medication in him, he can't even think straight." Tony sounded frustrated. 

Steve didn't blame him though. If Peter was high from the meds and all his muddled brain cared about was Steve, he'd be frustrated too. 

Steve didn't deserve his concern. 

"Papa! I  _ need  _ Papa!" There was something crashing to the floor and Tony gasping. 

"Peter, be careful. You're going to hurt yourself!" 

"He's not going to stop. I'm going to wake up Pops. He's the only thing that will calm Peter down." 

Steve's heart started to beat a mile a minute. He didn't want to go over there. He didn't want to hurt Peter anymore than he already did. 

"He needs his rest too. We can figure--." 

"Papa!" 

"Peter needs  _ him.  _ He's sobbing so hard he can't breathe!" Harry took a long breath. "They're all they've had for the last week. When things got bad...it was just the two of them. If he thinks he's still in there, he's going to look for his Pops." 

Damn that kid for being so fucking smart. 

"Okay," Tony relented. "I'll wake him up. Just keep arms length away from Pete so he doesn't accidentally hurt you." 

While Tony was getting ready to let go of Peter to walk over to Steve's bed, he started getting up. He was on his feet, pulling out IVs in a minute. It didn't matter what Steve wanted; Peter was hurting. 

"No. Stay there," he said, his voice scratchy frolic disuse. "I'm coming." 

Harry whirled around and rushed to his side to take some of his weight off of him. Steve hated that the sudden movement made him flinch. "Pops, you shouldn't be out of bed." 

"My son needs me," Steve replied through clenched teeth. The short walk between their beds was taking much longer than necessary. 

"We could wheel you--." 

"My son needs me," Steve repeated. He wasn't letting his weak body stop him from comforting his son. 

"Come lay down next to him. Maybe he'll calm down," Tony said, without even saying hello to Steve. Not that Steve cared. He didn't need his husband to say hi to him after he slept all day to avoid them all. Peter was the one that needed the attention. 

With Harry's help, Steve slipped onto Peter's bed and immediately, Peter molded to his side. His eyes weren't even open to see him. He pressed his ear against his chest and started to tap his finger in a steady rhythm. His sobbing subsided into wet sniffles and hiccups. 

Steve kept his hand off his back and out of his hair. It was hard not to be able to comfort him like he usually did. He couldn't even hug his son. "You with us, bear?" 

"Couldn't hear," Peter mumbled, still tapping the same beat. 

"You couldn't hear?" That worried Steve. Did they mess with his ears somehow? Was that more torture that Peter had no idea about? 

"Couldn't hear your heart."  _ Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  _

"You tapping out my heartbeat, Pete?" Steve asked, a sudden lump in his throat. 

Peter nodded as he whimpered. "Papa." 

"That's me," Steve replied, unsure of what else to say. He used to be good at this. But that was before the kidnapping. That was before Steve whipped him. 

"Papa, don't go." 

"I'm not." Maybe he'd never be good at this again. 

"Papa, don't let them take me," Peter cried, not as panicked as before but just as heartbroken. "Not ready to go." 

Steve was aware of Harry and Tony staring at them both. He didn't want an audience. If they stared any harder would they see right through them? Would they see everything that happened in that room? 

"That's good...because I'm not ready to let you go." Keep it light. Don't let it get like last night. Steve couldn't last another conversation like that. 

"Papa," Peter said again after a few moments of whimpering. 

"Sweetie." 

"Sing?" 

Last time he sang, he was singing goodbye. Steve couldn't do that again. He couldn't say goodbye. He just couldn't do it. Not again. Not again--.

"Papa?" 

"Not tonight," Steve snapped before he could still himself. 

Peter didn't ask again. He was tense in Steve's hold. Steve hurt him again and yet, he didn't let him go. He stayed with his ear pressed to his heartbeat and his arm clutched his wrist. 

"Just...go back to sleep, Pete. You need rest." 

"Comin' back tonight?" 

"They're never coming back again." 

"Dad gonna get us soon?" 

Tony covered his mouth with his hand as his eyes filled with tears. 

"When you wake up, you'll be home, bear. I promise." 

The position against his chest couldn't have been comfortable for Peter when he had a pillow to sleep on, but he didn't move. 

Before long, his soft snores filled the room. 

"I'm sorry to wake you," Tony said a couple of long minutes later. "He woke up in a panic and we couldn't get him back down." 

"How much longer is he on these meds?" Steve asked, not looking at either one of them. He hated seeing Peter like this. It reminded him too much of delusional he was towards the end. 

At least he could correct that to the end of their captivity from the end of his life. 

"I don't know. He needs more nutrients before his body is strong enough to fight these infections alone." 

"I want him off them." 

"Soon, Steve. He'll be okay." Tony paused. "Is there anything we can get you while you're up? You've been asleep all day." 

"M'okay." 

Tony hesitated. "I'm gonna run up to the kitchen with Harry. I need to get food in him now that you two are okay. He looks more peaceful than I've seen him since he's been back." Tony brushed a few locks of hair off his bruised forehead. The bruises from where his head smashed into the bottom of a metal tub filled with ice water. 

"Do you want us to bring you anything?" Harry asked in a quiet voice, as if he was afraid of waking up a hiding monster. Maybe he knew about the monster inside of Steve. The one that hurt Peter. 

God, how could they even trust him alone with Peter? He could hurt him in an instant. He'd done it before. 

"Steve, love, we're going to bring you down some food, okay?" 

Steve nodded. He didn't want the food, but Peter needed it. Steve wasn't going to turn down food for his starving son. 

"Alright." He kissed him on the forehead. "We'll be right back. Fall back to sleep with him. It's past 10. You're safe here." 

Steve watched the two of them go up the elevator, them both watching them every second until they couldn't see them anymore. Then it was just Peter and Steve again. 

And even though this tower was the most secure building in the world probably and Tony was waiting with dozens of suits at any given moment, Steve didn't feel safe. 

He was just waiting for them to be back. 

This time though, he would be ready. He would be expecting them at every moment. They weren't going to get away with it. Not again. 

Steve was going to keep Peter safe even if it killed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so.....the unhealthy recovery begins. 
> 
> Cmon....you didnt really think it would be easy right?


	10. day nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick chapter. Some will be shorter than others because some days are not as eventful. 
> 
> Big warning for eating disorder starting in this chapter. Steve will not be eating enough and Peter will be eating more than enough with Steve's encouragement.

_ "Drag him away, boys," the man said. Peter couldn't remember his name. F...it started with an F.  _

_ He didn't care about remembering his name though. Not when there were hands pulling him away from Pops. He didn't want to leave his arms, but he wasn't strong enough to fight them.  _

_ "Hope you said your goodbyes."  _

_ "Papa! Don't let them take me! Please!" Peter cried out, reaching for him.  _

_ But Pops wouldn't look at him. He stared down at the ground and didn't say a word.  _

_ "Come on, kiddo," the man said. "We've got some fun for you planned."  _

_ No. Not that room again. Peter couldn't go there. Not again. "No! Please! Don't!"  _

_ "Don't worry. This is the last time we're taking you away from him." The man smirked and Peter didn't believe him. "Because there won't be another chance too."  _

_ "N-no…"  _

_ "It's time to say goodbye."  _

_ "I don't want to die…" Peter said, his wide eyes staring at Pops. He still refused to acknowledge Peter.  _

_ "Too bad."  _

_ "No! Papa, I don't want to die!"  _

_ "Papa doesn't care."  _

_ Pops didn't move. He didn't look at Peter. He didn't try to reach out for him. He just sat there.  _

_ "Papa! Please!"  _

_ They started to drag him away and still, Pops didn't say a word.  _

_ \-- _

"Peter, you're okay, baby. Take a breath." 

Peter couldn't breathe. Pops didn't want him. He didn't want to keep him. Why? Why?  _ Why?!  _

"In...out. In...out." 

Peter shook his head, rubbing his eyes. "P-Papa." 

"He's looking for Pops again." 

"Steve isn't here-- shit...the doctors said he should be lucid by now." 

"I think he had a nightmare. He was crying in his sleep. Maybe he just needs to calm down." Harry's voice softened and then he was talking to him. "Hey, Pete. You okay?" 

Harry. He hadn't seen Harry in so long. He thought he'd never see him again. Peter's lip quivered as he tried to blindly reach for him. "Harry." 

Harry smiled and Peter couldn't help but smile back-- as much as he could. "There's your beautiful smile. I missed that. I missed you."

"Don't wanna die." 

Harry cupped his cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You're not. You're safe here." 

"Bambino…" 

Peter turned his head to glance over at his dad. He hadn’t seen him in so long...he thought he remembered him when they were rescued, but he couldn’t be sure. “D-Dad…” 

“You’re home, bambino. You’re safe.” Dad leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek and then another to his other cheek. While he was close, Peter leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. 

Peter hid his face in Dad’s shoulder as he began to cry. For the first time in a long, his tears were good. He was relieved. He was happy. He was home. “Dad, I thought-- I didn’t-- I was gonna die.” 

Dad held him tighter. “No. You weren’t. I would have never let that happen. Your Pops would have never let that happen.” 

Peter pulled back wiping at his eyes. “Where is Pops?”

Dad’s smile almost looked sad now. “You really want him, huh?”

“What?” Peter asked, confused. 

“You’ve been in this bed for two days. You’ve been up and down, but the only thing you’ve been asking for is Pops. You wake up, cry for Pops, and then pass out again.” Dad started to smooth out Peter’s hair and he tried not to flinch. Dad was good. He wouldn’t hurt Peter. Not like that man did. 

“Two days?”

Dad nodded his head. “This is the first day you’ve been awake and coherent. I want to get some food up here. Even though we’ve been feeding you through the IV, you need real food.” 

Peter didn’t care about that. Where was Pops? “Pops.” 

“Pops...okay...we can get him for you. He’s alright, though. You don’t need to worry.” Dad kissed him again. 

Harry climbed up on the bed and settled in the space next to him. Peter tucked his head against his shoulder and let Harry hold him. God, he missed this. Peter wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him in closer, entangling their legs together as well. 

“I'll go get Pops for you, baby,” Dad said, squeezing his hand once before letting it go. 

“He’s okay?” 

“He’s okay. I’ll be right back with him. Harry will stay here with you while you both wait.” 

Peter bit his lip. He didn’t want Dad to leave. But he didn’t want Pops out there alone. He just wanted them both back right here so he could see that they were both safe and sound. 

“They’ll be okay,” Harry whispered. “Don’t worry. You just sit here with me and let them go.” 

Peter nodded his head even though he didn’t want to. But Harry told him to do something and he was going to listen to him. He had to. He didn’t like what happened when he didn’t listen. 

“I’ll sit and wait.” 

“Thank you, baby.” Dad leaned forward and kissed him again before leaving. 

Peter could be good. He could listen. 

\--

Tony sighed as he left the medbay. He hadn’t seen Steve since he’d been released yesterday afternoon. He had been quiet and standoffish. Only when he was comforting Peter that one time did he show any emotion. Tony thought he needed some space. 

But Peter needed him. So he’d have to drag him back to the medbay. Which, truthfully, Tony didn’t think he’d need to force Steve to come see Peter. He thought he wouldn’t have been able to drag Steve away from him. 

But Steve was almost too afraid to go near him. The moment that the doctors gave him the all clear, he was out. 

Once he reached Steve’s art studio, he knocked on the door a few times. It wasn’t long after, Steve said, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s Tony.” 

“Come in.” 

Tony opened the door, unsure of what to expect. But what he saw...he wasn’t. Steve was curled up on his couch with Dodger, petting him steadily. He looked so small curled there. “Pete’s awake.  _ Awake _ awake. No more fever or morphine ramblings.” 

“How is he?”

“He’s okay...quiet. Looking for you.” Tony walked towards him and took a seat next to Dodger and Steve on the couch. 

“Why?”

Tony frowned at him. Why? Because he was his father? Because he was scared? Because Steve was the only one he had in that hell? Because he needed him? “Does it matter why?” Tony asked, keeping his voice soft. He wasn’t trying to be cruel to Steve; he just wanted to understand. 

Steve went quiet. He wasn’t going to be sharing any time soon. 

They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes while Tony watched Steve run his hand through Dodger’s fur. Dodger had his chin resting on Steve’s thigh. He wasn’t moving any time soon. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened while Peter isn’t here?”

“No,” Steve answered immediately. 

“I can get you someone to talk to. Doesn’t have to be me.”

“Tony, I said no.” 

Tony glanced over at him, not bothering to hide the hurt on his face. Steve wasn’t looking his way anyway. This wasn’t Steve...Tony knew that. He just didn’t think that when he rescued him, he still wouldn’t be home. 

“When you change your mind, I’m always here. Whatever you need. I don’t know what happened. Not all of it, but--.” 

“You don’t want to know what happened.” Steve’s hand quickened its petting. “It’s fine. Just give me a few days to get back to normal.” 

“You don’t have to rush this, Steve. I’ve been there--.” 

“No.” 

Tony furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Just stop. Don’t compare our experiences. You-- you lasted three months. I couldn’t even last a fucking week.” Steve clenched his jaw. 

“It’s not a competition. We went through different things. I don’t know what happened. I just want you to know that I’ve been here. I’ve been rescued and still felt like I was back in that cave. I know recovery doesn’t happen overnight.” 

“Not overnight. Few days.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, as if that made any of a difference. “It doesn’t work like that, Steve. You can’t hide in here and expect it to go away" Tony paused. "But, when you do want to talk, I’ll be right here.” 

“Okay.” 

Tony sighed. “I’m sorry... I don’t want to push you. I just don’t want to see you down here by yourself.” 

“I’m fine.” 

He wasn’t. Tony knew that. But he wouldn’t be able to help Steve until Steve was willing to be helped. “I’m heading up to go sit with Pete. Doctors said he should be good to leave tomorrow morning, but we’ll be in the medbay all day if you want to come up.” 

Steve just nodded his head, but Tony didn’t think he would take him up on that offer. 

With a sigh, Tony stood and leaned over to kiss Steve’s lips. Steve turned his head last second so Tony’s lips landed on his cheek. Tony tried not to let the hurt show this time. He cleared his throat and stepped away. “Alright...well, I’ll see you later. Make sure you come up to eat if you’re going to stay here long.” 

Steve was staring down at his lap and his petting was halted. 

“I love you, Steve.” 

Silence. 

Tony walked away and even though he had both his boys home, he felt just as miserable as he did when they were gone. 

\--

Steve hated himself. He didn’t think he could hate himself any more than when he cried after whipping his son. But his self hatred only continued to grow. Hiding from Peter, snapping at Tony...he was an asshole. 

But it was all for a good reason. Peter shouldn’t have to be near him. Not after Steve made him bleed and cry. And when Peter told Tony about what Steve did, there’s no way that Tony would let him go near him again. Steve needed the distance so that when Tony kicked him out of their life, it wouldn’t hurt as much. 

He only left his studio a few hours later when he was sure that everyone was asleep. He stopped in the kitchen first and searched through the cabinets for something to eat. He settled on a loaf of bread and a bag of chips. Not the healthiest, but it was food and it was the closest thing he could see. 

He trusted Tony. He truly did. But Peter was starved. He needed as much food as he could eat. So even if Tony got him dinner or had him hooked up that IV, he needed _more._

The closer he got to the infirmary, the more panicked he felt. He was practically running by the time he reached the door to Peter’s room. 

The lights were off and the room was quiet besides for the beeping of Peter’s machines. He snuck into the room, careful not to wake anyone up. He got to Peter’s bed and saw that only Peter was lying in bed. Tony was asleep on the chair next to his bed and Harry was sleeping in the cot that Steve had previously occupied. 

“Peter,” Steve whispered, shaking his shoulder. “Peter, wake up.” 

Peter blinked his eyes open after a few more shakes. When his eyes looked up at Steve, even in the darkness, Peter’s eyes lit up. “Pops!” 

“Shh!” Steve was quick to say. He really didn’t want Tony to see him now. Rationally, Steve knew what he was doing was crazy. 

“You’re here.” 

“Yeah, bud.” Steve placed the bag of chips and the bread on his lap. “I brought you food.” 

Peter’s eyes widened as he looked down at them. “That’s all mine?”

Nodding, Steve said, “Yeah. All yours.” 

“But I ate before I fell asleep. Dad gave me food.” Peter didn’t look away from the food though. He was practically drooling. 

“I brought you more. Eat.” He opened the bread first and pushed it towards Peter. 

Peter didn’t hesitate before sticking his hand into the bag and pulling out two slices at once. Steve opened the bag of chips while Peter ate the bread. After a few slices of bread and handfuls of chips, he leaned back against his pillows. “Thanks, Pops.” 

“Keep eating,” Steve said, dumping the last few bread slices onto Peter’s lap

“But, I’m full.” 

“I know, but, please. Just keep eating.” Steve felt so stupid for urging Peter to eat. They were home now. Tony wasn’t going to deny them food. They weren’t going to run out. But still...the thought of Peter even being slightly hungry scared him. 

Peter didn’t argue with him. He finished the bread, slice by slice and then went onto the chips. He watched Steve as he took each bite and Steve gave him encouraging nods. Peter smiled and finished the bag of chips too. 

Steve almost said,  _ Good boy _ but he bit his tongue. His son wasn’t a dog and he wasn’t Nice Guy. “Thank you, Peter.” 

“You’re welcome, Papa.” He settled back against the pillows, closing his eyes. “I missed you today.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I don’t want to bother you.” 

Steve wanted to grab his hand and hold it, but he stopped himself. “You never bother me. When you needed me earlier, I should have come up here. I just wasn’t thinking straight.”  _ I’m still not thinking straight...I just woke my son in the middle of the night to eat an entire loaf of bread and a bag of chips.  _

“Are you going to stay?” 

“Not tonight. I have to go do something.” 

Peter grabbed his hand and Steve wanted to pull it away. “I don’t like not being able to see you-- I know it’s stupid, but I just get worried when you’re all alone.” 

Steve swallowed thickly. “I’m okay, Peter. You don’t have to worry about me. We’re home now, so we’re safe.” 

“But…” 

“No buts, Peter. It’s over now. We’re okay.” Steve tried to give him a smile, but he felt it waver. He was terrified. He knew it wasn’t over just because they were home. They weren’t safe. Steve didn’t know when they’d be safe again. But he didn’t want Peter to carry that worry. 

“Okay…” 

Steve pulled his hand away from Peter’s as he stood up. “I’m gonna let you fall back to sleep,” Steve whispered. “Sweet dreams, bud.” He didn’t wait for Peter’s response before he took the empty bags of food and turned around to walk out of the room. He felt Peter’s eyes on him the entire time. 

Once he was out of the infirmary, Steve glanced up at the ceiling. “Hey, FRI, is everything locked down? All windows and doors?”

_ “Yes, Captain.”  _

“Alright. I’m just gonna walk through the tower again. Double check.” 

_ “You double checked less than two hours ago.” _

“Then it’s a triple check,” Steve snapped as he began to walk towards the balcony. "Just...open the balcony doors for me. Before we start to recheck the locks, I have to do something." 

_ "Of course." _

Steve pushed open the door and stepped into the cold air. He didn't feel exactly safe out here, but it was the only place he could get any kind of relaxing. He walked towards the railing and stuck his hand in his pocket. He pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes, glancing over his shoulder just to make sure nobody had woken up and followed him out here. He wasn't proud of the fact that he was hooked back on smoking a cigarette when he was too upset. He thought he kicked the habit after that fight with Tony and he promised he'd never pick up another cigarette. But here he was, standing outside in the middle of the night, smoking a cigarette.

And the worst part was after he finished it, he felt much more relaxed. His shoulders were lax as he looked up at the ceiling again.  “I’m not letting anything get in this tower. Bring up security diagnostics. We don’t have all night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a comment about The Fight in this and yes, that's another fic I plan to write one day. Tony and Steve get into a big fight earlier in this plotline. 
> 
> If Steve starts to seem ooc, it's because he is. He's suffering from not only PTSD but sleep deprivation. He will not be our regular Papa Bear.


	11. day ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter because I wrote the last scene a year ago. It's been waiting. 
> 
> Warning again for strong themes of eating issues/disorders

Peter knew he was home. He knew he was in the tower. But sometimes, he felt like he was right back in that room. When he closed his eyes, he saw those masks. Again and again. He had to constantly remind himself that Dad came and rescued them. 

The one thing that made it easier for him to remember was in his moments of panic, he would turn around and look for Pops. He was always there in the room, but now...he wasn’t. 

Peter saw him last night when he woke him up to eat, but that was it. It was now in the afternoon of the next day and Peter still hadn’t seen him since. 

Dad and Harry were helping him move out back into his room. He was given instructions on how to clean his bandages, both his stomach and all of the ones on his back, and then he was discharged. 

When he opened the door back to his bedroom, Tessa immediately was jumping up to lick his face. Peter pulled her into a hug, letting her lick him all over his mouth and eyes. He felt his eyes burning. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this until now. 

He just barely managed not to let her push him over to the ground. Usually, he’d love to, but right now the idea sounded like torture to his back. Again. 

“Alright, Tess, let’s let Pete get settled, yeah?” Harry pulled her off of him as she continued to bark excitedly. 

Dad smiled at him once Tessa was no longer attacking him with kisses. “We all missed you, baby.” 

Peter shifted on his feet, unsure of what to do. He felt almost out of place here. He was so broken and messed up. Dad and Harry just gave him small smiles and Pops said they were fine. He was the only one still  _ not okay.  _

"I-I'm gonna take a nap, actually…" Peter refused to meet either one of their eyes. 

Dad's voice was almost sad. "Oh...yeah. That's fine. We'll leave you to it." 

Not knowing why he did, Peter defended himself, "I just-- would like to sleep in my bed. I miss it. And I'm still tired." 

"Don't need to explain to us, Pete," Harry said in a soft voice. He leaned over and kissed Peter's cheek. "Call us if you need anything." 

Dad came over and kissed his other cheek. "Rest well, baby boy. See you soon." 

Then they were both gone and Peter was left alone with Tessa. She continued to whine, trying to give him kisses and calm him down. But he gently pushed her away. It was too much at once.

His chest was heaving with each forced breath and he stumbled over to his dresser, knowing Gusher was still swimming around there. Watching his fish swim always helped calm him down. 

But when he braced himself against the dresser to watch Gushers swim, his panicking only increased. He let out a long whine as he stared at Gushers swimming through the  _ water.  _

It was so stupid-- then again, most of Peter's thoughts after all of this were-- but the sight of water had his lungs struggling to take in air. Just like they struggled when he was held underwater. 

This was a tank. A small 5 gallon tank. There was no way Peter could drown in there. But still, he feared it. And the water rushing through the filter was like nails on a chalkboard to his ears right now. 

How could he relax when there was water like that right here in his room? It needed to go. Someone needed to take it. Water couldn't-- he couldn't do water anymore. 

Pulling out his phone, he was barely able to navigate through the apps from his blurry vision. He blinked away the tears as he clicked messages. 

He knew he should text Harry or Dad. They were the ones that wanted to see him. But he didn't want them to know how terrified he was of a tank of water. They didn't need to know anymore than what they already did. 

So he sent a message to Pops asking him to come to his room. No rush. He didn't want to worry him. And then Peter climbed onto his bed and attempted to calm his breathing as he waited for Pops to come. As he waited, he hoped. He hoped that Pops could bear to see him for just long enough to get Gushers out. And he hoped that after all of this was over and Peter was fixed, Gushers would forgive him 

  
  


“Knock knock,” Peter heard Pops say from the other side of the door a few minutes after he managed to settle his breathing. 

Peter stayed on the bed, hugging his legs close to his chest. “Come in.” 

The door opened and still, Peter didn’t turn around. “Hi.” 

“Hey, bud...you okay?” Steve’s voice was quiet and hesitant. 

Peter wasn’t okay. He wasn’t anywhere near okay. But Pops seemed fine. He seemed okay, so Peter had to be okay too. “I’m fine.” 

“What did you need? You hungry? I can go get food--.” 

Food was always the answer for Pops lately. But Peter wasn't hungry. He didn’t want to eat. “I need you to watch Gushers.” 

“Watch Gushers?”

“Please.” Peter hated that he had to get rid of him. But he just couldn’t stand the sight of him. Not now. “Bring his tank to your room.” 

“Move his tank? Pete, what’s wrong?”

“I-I just need him out of here. You need to take him.” Peter’s voice shook. He hated getting rid of Gushers. He loved having him on his dresser and he hated that he was so terrified of the water in the small bowl. 

“Alright, Pete…” There was some shuffling as Pops probably started to move some things out of the way to move the tank. "Hey, Gushers…" 

"Be careful with him please," Peter said in a shaley voice. 

"You sure you want me to take him, kid?" 

"Please. Just-- I can't do it. Please take him." Peter felt himself start to panic again. 

"Alright, alright. I'll take him. Don't worry." He softened his voice for Gushers. "I'm gonna babysit you for a few days, Gushers." 

Peter covered his mouth to try and contain his cries. He heard Pops open his door and there was a moment as if he were waiting for Peter to change his mind. Then he sighed and the door shut. 

Peter glanced behind him to see Pops gone...and the spot Gushers once was empty. He fell forward, flopping to his bed as he let the tears out. 

Tessa came over and tried to make him feel better with kisses, but it didn't help. Peter just continued sobbing. 

"I'm so b-broken, Tessa." He hid his face in her fur. "I just want it all to go away." The pain, the fear, the nightmares…he just wanted it gone.

\--

Peter knew he shouldn't be down here. Lunch time was hours ago. Breakfast before that. Peter wasn't supposed to eat without given permission, but he was hungry. 

So when Dad and Harry left to start making dinner, he asked FRIDAY for the all clear before he snuck down to the kitchen pantry. 

He slipped inside and shut the door behind him. His heart was racing a million beats per minute and there was a voice in his head telling him to go back to his room. The voice sounded just like the man's voice. 

But he ignored it. 

He flipped on the light switch and his eyes widened at all of the food in front of him. Only a few days ago, he never thought he'd see food again. Let alone this much. 

Before his brain could comprehend what he was doing, his arms shot out and pulled the nearest snacks towards his chest. As if someone was in the closet with him and was going to take it all away. 

With the food tucked against his chest, he fell to the ground and let it fall into his lap. His stomach took over from there and he was ripping into it all. He wasn't even sure what he was eating. 

But he shoved handful after handful into his mouth until he was full. 

And then he thought about how this feeling doesn't last long. Food wasn't a right. It was a luxury. 

So he continued his eating until it hurt and then he kept eating more until there were only empty bags and boxes in front of him. 

And when he looked around at the mess he made...the food he ate...he felt ashamed. He felt so, incredibly stupid. 

He wasn't there. He wasn't being starved anymore. 

He should be able to jump back up like Pops was. They were okay. They were safe. 

He was supposed to be happy. 

But instead, he felt miserable sitting on the floor of the food pantry surrounded by the evidence that he was so far from okay. 

And then it got worse. 

His phone lit up with a text from Dad. 

_ Dinners ready baby. Got a plate waiting for you. _

Peter groaned but stood up anyway. It took him a few minutes to collect all of his wrappers, but once he did, he opened the door slowly and stepped out. He threw it all in the trash can, along with any hope of getting better, and slowly made his way to the dinner table. 

Dad and Harry were out there waiting already. The table was covered in a spread of foods. The smell was mouthwatering even though Peter was literally stuffed. 

"Look good, bubba?" Dad asked, pulling a seat out for him. "We made your favorites. For dessert too." 

Peter fidgeted as he looked around the table. He shouldn't have been surprised, but his heart still ached. "Where's Pops?" 

Dad's smile wavered only slightly. "He was down in his studio. He's washing his hands and then coming to join us." 

Peter sat down as straight as a rod and folded his hands in his lap. He continued to stare down at his lap without saying a word. He wasn't supposed to speak without being prompted. 

"What looks good, Pete? You want me to pass the mac and cheese?" Harry asked, from his seat right next to Peter. 

Peter wasn't hungry anymore, but they spent their time making all of this food. They wanted him to eat. He was supposed to eat. If he didn't listen, then maybe they'd punish him and he wouldn't eat again--

_ No, Peter. That's stupid. You're safe. This is your family.  _

"Bambino? Mac and cheese?" 

Peter nodded his head quickly as he was disrupted from his thoughts. "Yes. Please and thank you, sir." 

The room went silent. Peter let them down again.  _ So so stupid.  _

"Alright, Pete…" Then there was pasta being served onto his plate until it was full. 

Looking down at it made him nauseous, but he lifted a forkful into his mouth and swallowed it down. He felt it settle heavy like concrete in his stomach, along with the rest of the food he binged. 

Still, he looked up and just barely met Dad's eyes. "Delicious. Thank you." 

"You're welcome, baby," Dad said while Peter pushed the food around his plate, willing some sort of appetite to come back. 

Harry and Dad both continued to make small talk and try to get Peter involved into the conversation. He kept his head down staring at his food. He wished he could save it for later in a few hours when he was hungry again, but mac and cheese wouldn't stay well in his pockets.

His eyes scanned the table for anything that would stay well, but the only option he saw was a roll and even that would get stale. 

Peter was still in the middle of figuring out how to save food for later when Dad stood up from the table. The sudden movement had Peter tense up and grab the knife in front of him. 

Then he realized how stupid he was for his first thought to be defensive and dropped it to the table. No one seemed to notice it, as they were both looking at Pops who just came in. 

Dad was already getting a plate ready for Pops as he walked over. He stopped just behind Peter and said, "You need to eat more." And then he was filling up his plate until he could no longer fit more food on it. 

Peter's face blanched staring at it; if the serving of mac and cheese was difficult, this was impossible. 

Pops sat down right next to Peter and tapped the table next to his plate. "Eat." 

Peter followed the order and began to bring forkful after forkful to his mouth. He was so focused on forcing himself to eat more without getting sick, he didn't really pay much attention to the rest of the dinner conversation. 

He glanced over at Pops' plate a few times to make sure he was eating as well, but every time he opened his mouth to tell Pops to eat more, Pops was tapping the table again, giving him a pointed look. 

So Peter focused on his own meal and leaned back when he was finally finished with the plate. He thought he was finally free to stop, but then, Pops was filling his plate up yet again. 

Peter wanted to cry at the sight of it. He couldn't refuse it though. How could he refuse food after being starved for so many days? He especially couldn't refuse food that Dad worked hard to make for him. 

With a groan and a heavy stomach, Peter filled up his fork, brought it to his mouth and willed the nausea away as he swallowed. 

The barely noticeable smile Pops gave him in return was worth any and every stomach cramp. 

\--

Steve wasn’t sleeping. He wasn’t because he couldn’t. If he fell asleep, then who was protecting them? Tony and Peter were in the tower, sound asleep. Steve needed to watch over them until they woke up. And even if he wanted to sleep, the nightmares stopped him. The sound of Peter screaming, so close to his ear, but Steve still unable to protect him. Peter being dunked under water over and over until he stopped struggling. Peter being dragged around by his hair. Peter looking so broken and empty. The masks….

It was better to stay awake. So he did. 

That was how he knew. How he heard it. 

Someone was in the tower. 

He crept into the main common area, where he’d heard the first bang. He heard feet shuffling and cabinets being opened and shut. The kitchen. They were in the kitchen. 

Steve took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders and hardening his stance. He had to be scary-- they were back to bring them back to that cell and chain them up. Steve wouldn’t let that. He’d die keeping his boys safe. 

He took one last deep breath before storming into the kitchen and speaking loud enough to scare the intruder, but not wake up Tony or Peter. He put as much force into his voice as possible. “What the  _ fuck  _ are you doing here?”

The person jumped, literally a foot into the air and let out a startled cry. He dropped a bowl that was in his hands, glass shattering at his feet and chips covering the floor. “I’m sorry, sir--. I’m sorry!”

Steve felt like he was slapped across the face. “Peter?”

Peter didn’t hear him as he continued to panic, apologizing. “Sorry, sir. Should have asked. I didn’t mean the disrespect. I’ll ask permission next time.”

Steve felt sick. Those were lines that Mr. Nice Guy liked to hear. That made him happy when he kept them in line like that. Peter thought he was Mr. Nice Guy, ready to punish him. 

Peter made it worse by falling to his knees, bowing his head and starting to clean up the mess with his shaking hands. Steve was shot back to holding a whip in his hand, Peter kneeling before him with his head down. Steve brought it down on his back, breaking his skin, making his son cry. 

“Get up, Pete--.”

“I’ll finish this. I’m sorry. I’ll clean up my mess. Please don’t hurt us.” 

_ It was too late. Steve already hurt him.  _

“Peter,  _ get up!” _ He snapped, afraid that if he kept his mouth open too long, he’d get sick. 

Peter shot up to his feet immediately. He stood up straight and still, his eyes staring at him widely. He didn’t see Steve. Or at least, Steve hoped he didn’t. Peter was conditioned to obey. Some man had conditioned his kid into behaving with pain and fear. And Steve did nothing to protect him. 

“Peter, please go to your room.” He lowered his voice so it wasn’t as commanding, but Peter followed the order anyway. He scurried past, bare feet running through the glass without flinching a bit. And then he was gone. 

Once he was alone, Steve couldn’t control his breathing anymore. He fell to the ground, his back pressed up against the refrigerator. He couldn’t breathe. He felt weak. He felt just as weak as he did when he was a kid, wheezing through an asthma attack after running from a group of older boys set on beating him up. 

This wasn’t any different. 

Except now, he wasn’t that frail little boy anymore. He was a grown man. He was Captain America-- stronger than any man. And here he was, whimpering on the kitchen floor at 3 in the morning. 

He dropped his head between his knees, dragging his fingers through his hair. Peter was scared of him. Peter was scared because Steve had hurt him. He was no better than his own father. 

He squeezed his eyes shut to let the tears fall, but it was a mistake because the second he closed his eyes, he was back there again. 

He was raising his hand and cracking a whip on Peter’s back. Peter was staring back at him with his big brown eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. He was whimpering, begging. “Papa, please stop. Please stop hurting me.”

Steve didn’t listen. His hand pulled back and he did it again. Peter fell to his hands as he let out a cry. He looked back at Steve with a betrayed look in his eyes. “You’re just like them.”

Steve covered his mouth, trying to stifle a sob. This is why he needed to stay away-- because he would only break Peter more than he already had. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, even though no one could hear him. “I’m so sorry.”

He sat there for a few long minutes, trying to calm himself down enough to a point that he could actually breathe. Once he could, he shakily stood to his feet and walked over to the broom. He brought it back over and began to sweep up the broken glass and chips. 

He ignored the part of his mind screaming at him to stop. He was wasting food. He may need it later on. What if he didn’t have any food-- these chips he was just throwing away would have been exactly what he’d be looking for. He was just throwing food away. 

Not even his food-- Peter’s food. This was Peter’s food and Steve was throwing it out. 

That thought stopped Steve short. Peter was hungry. He came into the kitchen, looking for food and Steve stopped him from eating. Just like they did. 

"Face it, sweetheart. You're just like me." 

Steve whirled around, looking for where that voice came from. He stopped when he saw Nice Guy leaning against the fridge, inspecting his nails casually.

Steve tensed, balling his hands into fists. "What the fuck are you doing in here? The security should have stopped you!" 

"Relax. I'm not really here. We both know that." Just as Nice Guy said that, the image of him rippled. "You're just crazy. Your mind makes you see me because you miss me  _ so much."  _

"I don't miss you. I never will," Steve snapped, still just as on edge as if he were real. 

"Then why are you imagining me if you don't miss my company?" He grinned. "Maybe...maybe you just know how alike we are. You're so much like me that you're starting to see me." 

Steve shook his head. "No. I'm not. 

"Oh, but you are. Then again...not even I could whip the boy. But you did. And then now. He was hungry. He wanted to eat and you sent him to his room. Starving. Great father." 

Steve didn't wait for Nice Guy to disappear or say another word. He was right. This was Peter's food and he was wasting it all. 

Steve practically threw the broom and dustpan against the wall in a hurry to move back to the cabinets. He started searching through, finding as much food as he could. Tony had stocked up on Peter’s favorite snacks so he grabbed them. Tony could buy more for his lunch tomorrow. 

Once his arms were full of food, he made his way towards Peter’s bedroom. He couldn’t let him starve. Steve promised himself that Peter would never feel hungry again. 

He was outside Peter’s door in no time, knocking softly. There was no answer. Steve tried again. “It’s Pops, Peter.” No answer. 

He was fine. Steve knew he was okay. But he still panicked.  _ Why wasn’t he answering?  _

Steve shoved open the door quickly and his eyes flew to his bed, hoping to see Peter safe and sound. He let out a relieved breath when he saw him sitting there, unharmed. 

Unharmed but not okay. 

He was sitting up with his back straight as a rod, eyes staring straight ahead at the wall. Tessa was around him, licking his face and nuzzling him with her nose to try and get Peter to pull her in close. He never did. 

Steve knew he had to be careful; he didn’t want to startle Peter. Not again. He walked slowly to the bed and took a seat down next to him. He put the bags of food down, Peter eyes tracking them. 

Steve loved Peter’s eyes. As much emotion as Peter already bared, his eyes gave him even more of a glimpse into the kid’s soul. He loved them because usually, Peter’s default setting was,  _ happy.  _ As his father, he wanted nothing else. He just wanted to see Peter bouncing off the walls with that light in his eyes. 

He hadn’t seen it since the morning of the kidnapping. 

Recently, he’d gotten used to seeing the hurt and the fear drowning in his eyes. He knew what his eyes looked like when he was broken to nothing. He knew what his eyes looked like when he was pretending he was anywhere else, dissociating. He knew what his eyes looked like when he wasn't here but still trying so hard to control himself and behave. 

It was one of those times. 

“Peter, you can relax. We’re not there. They’re not here.”  _ Not yet. _

Tessa licked Peter’s cheek waiting for the hug that never came.

“Pete, buddy...I’m sorry about before in the kitchen. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Peter pulled his knees tight against his chest, whispering, “I wanna go home.”

That was like a stab to the heart. “You are home, Pete. You’re in bed. Tessa is here. Dad’s down the hall. You’re okay.” 

“Can behave,” he whispered as if he was afraid of someone hearing him. “You won’t get hurt because of me again.”

“Oh, Pete, I’m fine. You don’t have to. You behave as it is. You don’t need to follow orders.”

“No one…” He had to swallow past a lump in his throat to continue, “No one here will hurt you. I promise.”

Tessa licked his lips, but Peter barely moved. “That’s Tessa, bud. She’s giving her pal kisses. You’re scaring us.”

He looked around Peter’s room, desperately searching for something else to use. He saw Nonna's blanket on his pillow and leaned over to get it. He held it carefully in his hands and then pressed it into Peter’s. “This Nonna’s blankie.”

Peter blinked, his eyes looking down to the blue blanket. Steve was getting through to him. 

“Look up, kiddo,” he said softly. 

Peter was slow, but eventually, he tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling. “They didn’t let us have stars,” he said. 

“No,” Steve agreed. “They didn’t. But you do. Those are your stars, Peter.”

Peter stared up at them, his eyes trailing around the collection of stars, tracing over the constellations that Peter had chosen. Then he blinked heavily and finally looked at Steve. His shoulders relaxed. “Pops?”

After everything he’d done, Steve didn’t deserve to be Peter’s Pops. The kid deserved better. But he nodded his head anyway. “Yeah, Pete. It’s me.”

He tensed up again, “I think I broke a bowl in the kitchen--- I’m sorry. I can go clean it up.” 

Steve shook his head, putting a hand on Peter’s arm to stop him from moving. “It’s alright, bud. I got it all.” 

Peter relaxed. “Oh...okay. Thank you.”

“I’m sorry…” Steve said, quietly. “For yelling and scaring you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I get it.” 

Steve looked away, hoping to God that Peter didn’t get it. He didn’t want Peter to understand what it was like to be this  _ fucked up  _ after. He knew it was naive to expect Peter to be fine, but he had been doing a good job of hiding it then. And even if he was taking his own time to recover from it all, he hoped it wasn’t anything near what Steve was feeling. The terror. The paranoia. The anxiety. He didn’t want Peter to feel  _ any  _ of this.

Instead of pushing it, Steve started to move the pile of food closer to Peter. “You’re hungry?”

Peter’s eyes stared at the food like he hadn’t eaten in years. Despite them having dinner only a few hours ago. “You can eat all of this. I want you to eat all of this.” 

Peter hesitated before leaning forward to grab the food and start eating. Steve watched him eat bag of food after bag of food not slowing down for a bit. 

Steve turned to his feet that were still pulled up close. “How are your feet? You ran through the glass.” 

Peter frowned, mouth full of food. “Think I’m fine.”

Steve needed to check his injuries. Make sure he wasn’t hurt. “Mind if I check?”

Peter paused, pulling the sleeve of crackers against his chest. “Can I keep eating?”

“Of course.”

He nodded and extended his feet slowly. He continued to eat while Steve took a foot in his lap and ran his thumb across the sole of his foot. He didn't feel any glass and Peter didn't react. Not even the faintest giggle. He brushed his thumb across Peter’s skin again. He felt something sharp and Peter winced slightly. “I’m gonna pick it out, buddy. Don’t worry.”

It was easy enough to pull out and a small drop of blood started to build up. Steve felt his chest tighten as he remembered what it was like to stitch Peter back up with a needle and thread after being stabbed. This wasn’t anywhere close to that kind of injury, but Steve was reminded of it all the same. 

Steve looked up and Peter barely seemed bothered as he opened up a bag of pretzels. He was eating without pausing a moment to breathe. He looked afraid someone was going to take it away. Steve didn’t blame him, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. When they came back, they weren’t coming near Peter. 

After ensuring that his one foot was clean, he moved to the next one and began to run his thumb over it. Steve only paused when he noticed Peter was slowing down. There were still a few bags of snacks unopened in his lap. “Finish up.”

“I’m kinda full.”

He was full now, but what happened if they came back and took the food? Peter would go back to starving. “Eat it all." 

Peter scrunched his face but continued eating anyway. His hands were shaking when he got close to finishing it, but he kept going. 

Steve finished up his feet while Peter finished eating his food. He groaned before he was done and said, "Pops, I just feel sick." 

Steve looked at the little food he had left and picked up the bags. "Alright. I'm going to put them on your dresser. If you wake up hungry, it'll be right there for you." 

Peter looked relieved when Steve took the food away. He placed it on his dresser and turned to look at him now that he was tucked back into bed with Tessa. "I'll never let you go hungry again. Not even for a moment." 

"I know, Papa." 

"I'm not…" 

"Not what?" Peter asked, furrowing his brow. 

_ I'm not like him. I won't hurt you anymore.  _

"I'm not going to take the food away. It's yours." 

For some reason, that reply seemed to disappoint Peter. "Oh...okay." 

"Goodnight, Peter," he said, walking towards the door without giving him a kiss goodnight like he usually did. He couldn't kiss Peter. He couldn't touch him. He'd just hurt him. 

"Goodnight, Papa." 

Steve shut the door, refusing to look at his sad eyes. Nice Guy was waiting for him when he was out in the hallway. "You just keep letting that kid down, huh? When does the disappointment end?" 

Never. 


	12. day fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy easter for all who celebrate!
> 
> warning for hallucinations in this chapter. quick one. i have nothing else to do but not do homework as i take my depression naps

The hallucinations didn’t stop. In fact, the more nights that Steve spent not sleeping, only made them worse. Nice Guy was always there. He was laughing at Steve and he was reminding him of what a horrible father he was. Steve couldn’t get away from him. 

One time, Tony had walked in on an argument Steve was having with Nice Guy. Tony couldn’t see him, but he was there. No matter how many times Steve told him to leave because dammit, he had checked that the tower was locked down at least once every hour. There was no way he was getting in. 

Tony had stared at him like he was crazy (and okay, maybe he was) and asked who he was talking to. Steve stopped mid sentence and just stared back. He didn’t have an answer for Tony. Not one that wouldn’t send him to a therapist. 

So he brushed him off again. He said that he was talking to Dodger, despite him being nowhere in sight. 

He hurried off before Tony could stop him and then he grabbed Dodger’s leash and led him outside for a walk. Dodger had been stuck inside for days; he needed his walk. Steve needed a walk too. He needed the fresh air. 

But when he walked outside, the worry was practically gnawing his stomach apart. There were too many people around. Buildings were too tall. Cars were too loud. Someone could be hiding.  _ He  _ could be hiding. 

He tried smoking a cigarette through the walk to keep his panicking low, but it didn’t help. On the balcony, at least it did  _ something.  _

He made it a block before he turned around and headed back to the tower. Nice Guy followed behind him cackling, “What’s wrong, man? Afraid someone’s gonna hurt your doggy again?”

“You’re not allowed in here,” he snapped to the man before hurrying inside and past the doorman into their private elevator. 

Dodger looked up at him with a whine. 

“I know, I’m sorry, pal. You’ll go for a real walk soon.”  _ Maybe Tony will take you.  _

Not that Tony was going to be around to ask him. For the last few days, he hadn’t left Peter’s side. Ever since the night that Peter had woken up screaming from a nightmare. Tony and Steve both ran in to comfort him because even if Steve was trying to keep his distance, his Papa Bear instinct to protect his cub was too strong. 

But he stopped in the doorway when he heard Peter screaming about his back and masks. His nightmare was not only about those horrid masks they wore, but also Steve. Steve was right alongside them in his nightmares, hurting him. 

“See,” Nice Guy said from his spot next to Steve. “I told you you were just like me.”

Steve ran away and he didn’t turn back. He ran right to the balcony and smoked three cigarettes until his hands stopped shaking. 

That day, Peter hadn’t left his bedroom. Steve had visited to bring him food throughout the day and saw him falling asleep only to wake himself up a few minutes later with his pained whimpering. Tony was right there besides him all day and from then on, he rarely left his side.

It became a normal routine throughout the next few days. Harry started to go home at night and give Peter more space (but he was always back the next day), Tony stayed by his side day and night (literally), and Steve hid away in his studio. 

That was their new normal until the shit hit the fan one day. 

Tony met Steve in the kitchen when he was making breakfast that morning. It was strange to see him without Peter by his side. “I have to go to work today.”   
Steve blinked. “What?”

“He’s trying to get away from you, duh.” 

Steve ignored Nice Guy’s commentary as Tony answered, “I’ve been putting things off for over two weeks now. I don’t want to go in, but I can’t ignore it anymore. The sooner I get all this done, the sooner I can come back.” 

He turned around to face him, his eyes wide with worry. “You can’t leave me. I can’t watch him. I can’t protect him.”

Tony frowned as if he truly didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that he’s not safe with me. The last time we were alone, he was hurt- again and again and…”  _ I hurt him.  _

“Do you really think I don’t trust you with him?” Tony asked, taking a step closer. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, scoffing. “You’re a moron if you believe that I trust you any less. I still would put his life in your hands again and again.” 

Steve’s hold on the spoon he was holding increased until his knuckles turned white. “His life was in my hands, Tony. And look what I did with that. Almost killed him.” 

“You kept him alive. Don’t belittle that.” 

“Alive? Does he really seem alive to you?” Steve threw his hand out towards the side of the tower his room was in. “He spends his days in his room, sleeping or eating.”

Tony hesitated. “He’s adjusting.” 

“He needs help, Tony,” Steve argued, ignoring Nice Guy’s laughter behind him.  _ Why was that asshole always fucking laughing at him? _

“And you don’t?” Tony shot back. “You talk about him, but you don’t do anything either. You just do the opposite-- you never sleep and you never eat! You hide in your studio unless you’re bringing Peter meal after meal.” 

“He needs to eat.” 

“And he’s old enough to ask to eat if he wants to.” 

“Then I think he’s old enough to sleep alone sometimes, Tony!” 

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to argue with you, Steve. I’m going to work. You don’t have to go sit with him every second of the day. Just check in on him. Please.” 

“You want to argue with him though, don’t you? I can tell. You’re itching to start a fight. Why don’t you tell him how you whipped his kid? Tell him all about how you made his baby boy cry. That’ll start a fight.” 

Steve growled and whirled around to face the man that just wouldn’t leave him alone. “Shut up!” 

But Tony thought it was directed to him, of course. His eyes looked hurt as he lowered his voice. “I don’t know what’s wrong since you don’t share anything with me, but if you want to yell at me for trying to help-- whatever, just do not raise your voice to our son like that while I’m gone.”

Steve wanted to say he wouldn’t, but who even knew anymore. He just stared at Tony, clenching his jaw until Tony turned around and left the kitchen. Once he was gone, Steve turned back around to the burning food on the stove top and threw the pan across the kitchen with a yell. 

“Oh, I hope our little Petey didn’t hear that,” Nice Guy said, coming closer to him. 

“Get out!” Steve yelled, swinging the spoon towards him. “Just leave! Leave me the fuck alone! For one fucking second-- just-- stop!” He let out a frustrated cry as he fell to his knees. He sobbed into his hands as the prick continued to laugh above him. 

“Please,” he begged, once again on his hands and knees. “Please just  _ leave me alone.”  _

_ \-- _

Steve stayed away from Peter all day unless he was bringing him food. He limited it to three meals with a snack between each. He didn’t stay long enough to make sure Peter ate it but no longer. He didn’t want Peter to have to look at him, but it was mostly because wherever he went, Nice Guy followed. 

He wanted to keep him far away from Peter. He was tired of the comments he made every time he saw him, laying in bed. The comment he made about the bandages on his back peeking through his shirt had Steve hurrying out before he had a panic attack in front of Peter. 

He handled it all fine until he went in to say goodnight to Peter and make sure he didn’t need anything before bed. He didn’t tuck him in or give him a kiss. He kept his distance. But when he was about to leave the room, he heard Peter ask in a small voice, “Can you sleep with me?”

Steve froze with his hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“I don’t like sleeping alone.” 

“Tessa is here. She always sleeps with you.” 

“Yeah, but I need you or Dad. I need someone else here.” 

Steve wanted to give in and maybe in another circumstance, he would have. But he couldn’t. He remembered months ago, before Tessa, Peter would crawl into bed with Steve and Tony every night. It wasn’t healthy. They got him Tessa to keep him company. 

And Steve definitely wasn’t going to stay here the entire night, letting Nice Guy close to him again. 

Steve just couldn't. He had to learn to sleep on his own. Again. 

"You'll be okay, Peter."

"Papa, please don't. I don't want to be alone." Peter's voice was already starting to shake. He wasn't far from breaking down. 

"Yeah, Papa. Let's go see him." Of course, Nice Guy was right there. 

"Peter, I can't stay the night." Steve said between clenched teeth. 

"Papa, I need you!" There were the tears. 

"Hear that? He needs you. You gonna let him down  _ again?  _ You're pretty good at that." Nice Guy started to walk closer to Peter's bed. 

"Get away!" Steve shouted, taking a step forward as well. "Stay away from him!" 

Peter sniffled and asked confusedly, "Who?" 

Steve ignored him because his focus was on Nice Guy, who was way too close to Peter. "Get out. Now." 

"I just wanna say hi! Give him a hug. You've been denying the poor kid lately. Some father you are." 

But Peter was jumping to his feet at Steve's growled command. "G-get out? I thought I was supposed to sleep." 

"No-- not you, Pete. Get to bed. You can sleep." Steve tried to soften his voice. He had to stay calm. 

Peter got back into his bed hesitantly and pulled the covers over himself. "Can you please sit with me? Until I fall asleep at least?" 

Steve opened his mouth to answer him when Nice Guy started to make a whipping motion with his hand at Peter. That was it. He had to get out of here and he had to take Nice Guy with him.

Steve hurried out of the room within seconds and slammed the door shut behind him. "FRI, lock this door. Peter is not allowed to get out." 

He could hear Peter out of bed and running towards the door from the other side. "Pops!" He was screaming as he banged on the door. "Don't leave me!" 

Steve's eyes were wild as he looked around the hallway. Where was Nice Guy? He was supposed to follow him out-- what if Steve just locked Peter in there with him?

Peter let out a screech and Steve was sure he was still in there. Nice Guy was in there and he was hurting Peter again and it was all his fault and--. 

"Oh, how I missed hearing that scream." 

Steve stopped himself just before he was about to open the door and looked over his shoulder. Nice Guy was smirking as he leaned against the wall. 

"Papa, don't leave me alone!" Peter smacked his hands against the door some more. 

"Go on in, Pops," Nice Guy said. "I wanna see him. Let's have some fun with our boy." 

Steve was shaking. He couldn't let this man near him. "No! Peter-- go to bed!" Steve felt his own voice breaking. "Please. Bud. Just go to sleep." 

"Papa," Peter cried, sounding like all the fight was gone. 

Steve let himself fall to the ground, leaning against the door. "You're safe in there, bear. I promise. Please. Just...go to sleep." 

Peter stopped screaming and settled for wet sniffles and cries. Steve shut his eyes so he didn't have to see Nice Guy. He lifted his hand to the door, wishing he could open it up, pull his boy in for a hug, and hold him all night. 

"God, you're both so damn pathetic." 

"Don't," Steve snapped. "Don't you dare call him pathetic." 

Nice Guy wasn't real. Deep down, Steve knew that. His words were Steve's, but Steve refused to believe he would  _ ever  _ call Peter pathetic. 

"I'm just calling it like I see it, man." 

Steve shook his head, refusing to answer him. Maybe he'd shut up and leave if he ignored him. 

Eventually, Steve must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew, someone was shaking him awake. 

It only felt like he blinked his eyes for a second. 

"Love, what are you doing on the floor?" Tony's voice was soft, no sign of their argument earlier that day. 

"Watching Peter," he mumbled, trying to wake himself up again. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. 

"You couldn't sit in the room with him?" Tony snaked an arm around his back and lifted him up. 

Steve tried to carry all of his own weight. "Can't. Gotta sleep by himself." 

"He's been having nightmares, Steve," Tony replied as they began to go towards their bedroom. 

Steve refused to give in. Tony was wrapped around Peter's finger and would do anything he asked. Steve was the parent that put his foot down when Peter just couldn't get what he wanted. "He needs to be on his own." 

"I'd disagree." 

Steve just huffed slightly as they walked into their bedroom. He wanted to stay up and go double check every single lock and he wanted to make sure Nice Guy didn't sneak into Peter's room. But he was so exhausted. He hadn't slept in days. 

Sleep wasn't even a want now; it was a need. His body would surely stop working if he put off sleep any longer. 

So the moment that Tony had him tucked into bed, he was unconscious before he could even say goodnight. 


	13. day sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter numbers keep changing sorry

Steve woke up to an empty bed. It took only a moment for him to realize  _ why.  _ He stumbled out of bed, careful not to disrupt Dodger from his sleep. He wasn’t what time it was, but he hurried out of their room and went to Peter’s. 

He didn’t hear or see Nice Guy so he hoped that maybe he was finally getting a break from him. That also meant it was safe to go see Peter. 

He opened the door a little harder than necessary when he got there and wasn't surprised to see Tony and Peter sitting up in bed. Tony had an arm wrapped around Peter as he was snuggling into his side. 

Steve didn't know why it annoyed him so much. Maybe because Steve told him not to? Maybe because Steve had to be the bad guy? Maybe because he wanted to be the one holding Peter? 

He clenched his jaw and said, “Hey, Tony, can I speak to you?” 

Peter refused to meet his eyes, but Tony nodded his head. “Yeah, sure.” Kissing the top of Peter’s head, Tony whispered, I’ll be right back, bubs.” He didn’t wait for Peter to respond before getting up. Maybe he knew Peter wouldn’t verbally answer anyway. 

Steve stepped into the hallway and walked a few doors down so that Peter wouldn’t be able to overhear what they were saying. Once Tony was in front of him, Steve crossed his arms over his chest and said, “We can’t do this.” 

Tony looked genuinely confused, as if he didn’t do the opposite of the one thing Steve said last night. “What are you talking about?” 

“Peter. We can’t baby him.” 

Tony furrowed his brow.  _ “Baby  _ him? Steve, our child was just kidnapped and torture for a week. He’s allowed to be babied. He’s our baby.” 

“I know that, but it’s not helping,” Steve pointed out. He wasn’t sure how many days it had been of Tony attaching himself to Peter’s hip, but he was unable to cope without one of them by his side. It was unhealthy. 

“It’s comforting him. I’m sorry for  _ comforting  _ our child.” Tony rolled his eyes with a scoff. 

“There needs to be a balance! We need to give him just enough to be able to get by on his own.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. He desperately needed a haircut. 

Tony opened his mouth but then snapped it shut immediately after. Steve knew he wanted to say something. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“No. What? You look like you want to say something _. _ ” Steve hated how upset he was getting at Tony. He shouldn’t be getting this upset. 

Tony took a moment of silence before he said in a calmer voice, “I know you were there too. I know you’re suffering and you’re both dealing with it in your own ways...but completely avoiding him? Where’s the balance there?”

Steve knew he was right. He hated knowing that he was still hurting Peter. But the hurt of keeping his distance was better than the hurt of being too close and reminding him of the pain. “I’m trying to do what’s best for Peter,” Steve said eventually in a quiet voice. 

“And hiding away is what’s best?” 

“You don’t know what happened…” Steve shook his head. 

“Then tell me!” Tony threw his hands up in the air. “Tell me so that I can understand.” 

Steve turned away, unable to look into his pleading eyes anymore. He changed the subject quickly. “All I asked was for you to let him go one night on his own. Let him adjust.” 

“I can’t stand seeing him in pain.” 

"And you think I can?" Steve asked incredulously. He had to witness Peter in more pain than he should ever feel in his entire life. "Do you think this is  _ easy  _ for me? Like-- like I enjoy seeing him cry? I fell asleep on that damn floor last night listening to him cry and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it. Just like every day in that hellhole." 

Tony's eyes were wide and watery by now. "Love…" 

The affectionate nickname had Steve cringing. He didn't deserve it. He was disgusting. He was pathetic. 

"Please...please just talk to me. Maybe if you do, then Peter will and--." 

"No!" Steve snapped quickly. "I don't need to-- stop sleeping with him every night!" His voice ended in a shout before he was rushing off. 

He went to his studio, the only place he could be himself without hurting Tony or Peter. Nice Guy was waiting there, of course. 

"Just face it: Tony is the better father. We both know this." 

Steve started to place back and forth, staring hard at the ground. If he didn't see him, maybe he couldn't hear him either. 

Unfortunately, that didn't work. 

"Oh, come on, man! I'm just trying to help you out! You're only making things worse for Peter and for yourself." 

Steve's breathing picked up as he quickened his pace. 

"You locked your son in his room while he begged you not to. You just left him in there alone. I'm sure you know what that empty room and locked door must have reminded him of." 

Steve's pacing froze and he looked up at Nice Guy. The realization sunk in and his heart went cold. 

He had...locked Peter in a room...by himself...just like those assholes probably had. They had dragged him away from Steve and locked him up and Steve just left him in then-- crying and pounding on the door. 

Why did he always hurt Peter? 

"Maybe because you're more like me than you thought. And the sound of him crying, the way his breath hitches as his lungs attempt to keep up with his sobbing...the look in his eyes when you hit him where it hurts-- those brown eyes crumbling in despair-- you crave it. You crave it in a sick twisted way." 

"No!" Steve roared, grabbing the nearest thing and chucking it as hard as he could at Nice Guy. It shattered against the wall. 

He didn't disappear. 

"C'mon, Rogers. Let's go back up there. Let's rough him up. Lock him back in his room until he cries again-- God, I love that sound! And only stop when he crawls over and kisses your foot. I mean how much more perfect can you get?"

Steve let out a loud scream and charged forward. He ran right into the wall and didn't even check to see if Nice Guy was still there. He just pulled his fist back and punched it as hard as he could. 

Something cracked in his knuckles and they were already bleeding, but he didn't care. As long as he was getting the pain and not Peter, he didn't care one bit.

"Shoulda saved that for your boy." 

Steve screamed again before he ran out of his studio. He let his legs work as fast as they possibly could to get him as far away from it all as he could without panicking even more. Which was the balcony with a cigarette lit between his lips. 

He was mumbling to himself as he stepped outside, shaking hands searching through his pockets for his pack and lighter. Steve walks out to the balcony, mumbling to himself under his breath as he searches his pockets.

Once he was leaning against the railing, using it for some sort of support, he pulled out a cigarette, stuck it between his lips and then pulled out his lighter. 

He couldn't get it to light and it only frustrated him even more. Cursing under his breath, he tried another time. Finally, it stuck. 

And he inhaled deeply, held in for a few seconds, before he let it out slowly. Smoke surrounded him as he let his shoulders sag slightly. 

But then he hurt a small whine. 

Panic back at full force, Steve snapped his head to look to where he thought the sound came from. He saw Peter sitting on a chair, wrapped up in a blanket as he stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Steve probably looked the same way.

“Pete? What are you doing here? Weren't you in bed with your Dad?" 

Peter’s eyes flicked to his mouth. To the cigarette in his mouth, Steve realized too late.. Steve grabbed it out of his mouth quickly. He hadn't wanted Tony and Peter to know. 

Peter’s eyes followed it and they stayed on the burning cigarette as he mumbled, “I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry?” Steve parroted, hiding it behind his back even though Peter has already seen it.

“For-- I didn’t mean to-- y-you can finish…” Peter stuttered. 

Steve stared at him in confusion, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. Usually he was so good at knowing exactly what Peter was thinking. Sometimes without even saying a word. 

"For interrupting your smoke.”

Immediately, Steve felt his cheeks burn. “No-- I, uh…”

“If you need one…”

"No-- um…” Steve said, despite the insistent urge he felt to take another drag. 

“Then you’ll put it out?” There was a glint of hope in his eyes for the first time in a while. Just for a damn cigarette being put out. And what was easier for him to extinguish? The cigarette or Peter’s hope?

The answer should have been obvious, but still, Steve hesitated. 

“I mean you don’t have to. I’m sorry,” Peter said in a sudden rush of breath. 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “No. Please don’t.”

Peter started to unfold himself, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. “I should go inside…”

“Pete...”

“Yeah?”

Sighing, Steve said, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

Steve gestured to the cigarette. He should have known to be more careful. Even if Peter didn’t admit it out loud, the doctors thought that the burns on his arms were most definitely from cigarettes. And Steve was smoking ‘em left and right...just like them. 

Drawing attention to the burning cigarette only made Peter more tense. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t be out here anyway.” 

“No, Peter. You’re allowed to be out here…” 

“And you’re allowed to have your cigarette.”

Steve just stood there with shaky hands.He wanted to lift the cigarette to his mouth and take a long drag more than anything. 

“I’m sorry..”

Steve hated hearing this kid apologizing. “Don’t-- please-- don’t.” 

Peter didn’t seem to hear him. “I won’t bother you anymore. I just came out for some fresh air.”

Steve dropped the cigarette and stomped it out. 

Steve wasn’t looking at him, but he heard the breath of relief that Peter let out a breath. 

Steve shifted awkwardly, unsure of what to do now. He only came out here to have a cigarette and relax. Now he was even more upset than he was to begin with. 

“Um...do you want to sit?”

“I uh--.” Steve said, not wanting to answer that. He wished he could sit. 

“I’m sorry-- you can...I feel bad.” Peter’s gaze drifted to the cigarette on the ground. 

“Stop that,” Steve mumbled. 

“Stop what?”

Steve moved his hands behind his back as if the cigarette was still between his fingers. “No need to apologize.” 

Peter let out a small grunt of frustration. “I feel like I should. It’s my fault and--.”

Steve immediately cut him off. He didn’t know what Peter was blaming himself for, but Steve was not going to have it. “It’s not your fault-- Peter please-- don’t say that.” 

“You’re not having your cigarette because of me. It is…but it’s okay. It’s kinda cold out here anyway.” He started to get off the chair and looked up at Steve. Steve opened his mouth but didn’t have any clue what to say so he shut it again. Peter gave him a sad smile. “See? So I’m sorry...I’m not--.” He looked away, mumbling. “I just don’t like you smoking.” 

Steve went quiet. There was nothing he could say to that. 

Peter continued on, unprompted. His voice was shaky as he said, “You just haven’t been acting like you-- I’ve barely seen you since we got home. I’m sorry if I did something wrong--.” His voice cracks. 

The sudden change in conversation topic had Steve’s head reeling. “No. You didn’t--.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” Peter asked, his voice cracking.

“I-I’m--.” Steve struggled to come up with words to say. Was he avoiding Peter? Yes. Was it for the reasons that Peter thought? Hell no. 

“So..you are then? Oh...uh-- okay..you don’t have to tell me why. It’s fine.” 

“No, Peter. You didn’t do anything wrong!” Steve felt his heart begin to race. He was the messed up one...why was Peter taking the blame?

“Then what’s wrong?”

Steve only grew more antsy. He needed a smoke. He needed quiet. He needed to get out of here. 

“I’m sorry…” Peter said again, for what reason, Steve didn’t know. 

“Don’t-- stop saying that-- Please don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Please.”

“I feel like I should be,” Peter said. “I’m only making you more upset. After I stopped you from the one thing that will calm you down. I’m sor--.” 

Steve snapped. He couldn’t listen to this. “Stop-- Please stop. Peter, please. Just stop-- I’m sorry. Just stop apologizing-- you have nothing to be sorry for. Please. God dammit, just  _ please.  _ Stop. Please. Please. God--  _ please.  _ It breaks my Goddamn heart you feel the need to apologize for this pathetic bullshit I’m pulling-- please spare me. Please.” 

Peter flinched back at his sudden outburst. “I--I...You’re not pathetic.” 

“You were there with me, weren’t you?! You saw it all!” Steve couldn’t control his voice anymore. It was loud and a moment from breaking. 

“Y-yeah...but that doesn’t mean you’re pathetic.”

Steve only scoffed.

“You’re not,” Peter insisted. 

Steve shook his head. “Believe me. I am.” 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Peter said, “Well, then I guess I am too. We were in there together.” 

“How the actual-- How the hell did you get to that conclusion?” Steve furrowed his brow, staring at him like he had 15 heads. 

“Funny. I was thinking the same about you.” 

Steve just narrowed his eyes.

“You’re not pathetic. Not to me,” Peter said. “But those guys...they’re good at making you feel like it.” 

Steve still didn’t say a word. His son shouldn’t be giving him a pep talk. It should be the other way around. 

“You’re the reason we’re even here. Home safe,” Peter continued.

That could have made Steve laugh if he could. “Your dad is.” 

“So are you,” Peter challenged.

“I dunno about that, kid.”

“Who was the one that kept us alive the week we were gone? Sure wasn’t me.” 

“I didn’t do much either, huh,” Steve said, matching Peter’s attitude.

“Kept your eye out on me.” 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, remembering all the pain that Peter went through. “Not good enough.” 

“You did your best.” 

“Which wasn’t good enough!” God, why was Peter arguing with him on this?

“Why? I’m okay.” Steve didn’t say anything so Peter continued, “I am. I’m perfectly fine. You are, right? So am I. You don’t have to worry.” 

It felt like a punch to the face.  _ You’re fine, so I’m fine.  _ Steve wasn’t fine. He wasn’t. And he hoped to God that Peter wasn’t feeling the same way he was. “Always do,” he mumbled. 

“Well, you can worry your normal amount then. Because I’m fine. You kept me safe and alive until dad found us.” 

“Did I really do anything? I stitched you up after getting you stabbed. That’s real nice, huh?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. Steve felt like a dick for throwing that back in his face. “You didn’t get me stabbed. That wasn’t your fault.” 

“And here we go!” Steve scoffed, throwing his arms up in the air. 

“Did you stick the knife into my stomach? Maybe I forgot that part.”

“I didn’t say  _ I  _ stabbed you,” Steve said, hating the attitude he and Peter were giving each other. Weren’t they on the same side? “I said I was the one who  _ got  _ you stabbed.

“And I was the one that got you beat-- and strangled until you were unconscious.” 

Steve never blamed Peter once for that, but the memory of that was not a good one. Feeling like he was going to die and leaving Peter in the hands of those people. “Can we just--.”

“What?”

“Stop,” Steve said eventually, the fight gone from his voice. 

“Fine. You’re right-- we’ll just pretend like it never happened. That’s better.” Peter crossed his arms over his chest. 

Steve gritted his teeth to refrain from saying anything. Peter looked away and settled on glaring out at the sky. Steve reached for his pocket, the one with the cigarettes and lighter, instinctually. Peter glanced at him from the corner of his eyes. Steve flexes his hand instead and started heading inside. 

“Goodbye to you too,” Peter said just as he was about to open the door.

“Goodbye--.” His voice was barely audible. He was seconds away from a breakdown and he really didn’t want to have it in front of Peter. 

He shoved open the door and hurried back to his studio. When he got in there, he didn’t feel any more relaxed than he did outside. Nice Guy laughed as he slammed the door shut behind him. “I was gonna say something out there, but you had it handled.” 

Steve fell to the couch and hid his face in his hands, starting to cry. He tried to muffle his cries even though there was no one around to hear him except Dodger. 

He was on the couch with Steve now, trying to shove himself in Steve’s lap and give him kisses. 

“Did you see the look on that kid’s face? You really did a number on him.” Nice Guy cackled.

“Stop it-- fucking-- stop! Just stop. Don’t say that-- stop!” Steve couldn’t hold back his sobbing any more as he sat there, struggling to even take in a breath. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just trying to help him!” 

“And instead you’re just pushing both of them away. Good job.” 


	14. day seventeen

Tony was in the kitchen, making breakfast for Peter when Steve saw him again the next morning. He didn’t hesitate before walking into the room; he had been up the entire night before trying to figure out how to end this cycle and came up with one idea. 

“Tony, he needs to go back to school.” 

Steve stood his ground, waiting for Tony to turn around and face him. His shoulders were much tenser and he froze what he was doing, but he still didn’t turn around. 

“You’re looking to get rid of the kid already? You know I’d always _love_ to take him back.” Nice Guy said, leaning against the fridge. 

“Did you hear what I said?” Steve prompted, knowing he did. 

“You want him to go back  _ today?”  _ Tony finally turned around. He looked tired. 

Steve nodded his head; he had to stay firm. “He’s been home for over a week now. Harry has been going back. He can stick close to him.” 

Tony looked down at his watch and said, “There’s no way he’d even make it time.” 

“Which is fine. We can drop him off after lunch. A half day is a good start.” Steve took a step closer to Tony so he didn’t have to see Nice Guy in his peripheral vision. 

“He’s not ready to go back to school,” Tony said in a low voice. “He hasn’t even left the tower yet and you want to shove him in a school surrounded by teenagers that already make his life a living hell?”

“Harry will be there, first of all. You know that kid never lets anything happen to Peter. And second, he’s never going to leave the tower if you keep babying him like this.” 

Tony threw his hands up in the air. “Here we go again with the babying.”

“If we want to get back to normal, then we need to about acting like normal.” 

“No, acting like nothing happened will not make it normal. Talking about it. Seeing someone.  _ That  _ would help,” Tony argued. 

“I’m not seeing a therapist.” 

“And neither is Peter apparently, so good luck getting back to normal.” Tony turned back around to pour some of the oatmeal he was making into a bowl. 

“I don’t need one.” 

“Yes, you do,” Tony said in a calm voice despite Steve’s rising irritation. “And so does Peter. But Pops doesn’t need one, so he doesn’t either.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “So this is _my_ fault?”

Signing, Tony turned around with Peter’s bowl in hand. “It’s not your fault. But he’s looking  _ to you _ after all of this, Steve. Not me. You’re hiding and acting like everything is fine. So that’s what he’s doing.” 

“He needs to go to school.” 

“He needs to take recovery one step at a time.” 

“Wow,” Nice Guy commented, “Kid doesn’t even get to decide for himself. Just like he’s back with us.” 

Steve winced. “He’s right.” 

Tony frowned, staring at him in confusion. “Who’s right?”

Ignoring him, Steve continued, “I’ll ask Peter if he wants to go to school. But there is one thing that he’s doing whether he wants to or not.” 

“What?” Tony asked, sounding almost nervous. 

“It’s been almost three weeks. He’s taking a shower.” 

Tony’s face twisted up in pain. “He doesn’t want to go near the water, Steve.” 

Steve hated that he was terrified of water with good reason, but he knew they couldn’t let him avoid it for the rest of his life. “I know. That’s probably why Gushers is in our room. But, he needs to take a shower, Tony. You know he does.” 

After a few seconds of hesitation, Tony gave in. “Fine. He’ll take a shower today.” 

“And I’ll discuss school with him.” 

“Don’t push him. Please.” 

“I’m not going to push him any more than he needs,” Steve replied. 

Tony looked like he was going to add more to the conversation but just sighed and started walking towards the hall. Before he left the kitchen, he turned to Steve and said, “Just let me give him breakfast first. Then you can take him in the shower.” 

* * *

Once he was done with breakfast, Tony came down to let Steve know. Steve told him to stay in the lab until FRIDAY gave him the all clear. Steve knew that Peter wouldn’t go in the shower easily. He knew there’d be a breakdown. 

But that was to be expected; his child had been waterboarded. 

Tony had also been waterboarded at one point in his life and the last thing Steve wanted was Peter’s freaking out to trigger a panic attack for Tony. So he was going to keep Tony as far away as possible. The pets were also locked in there with him, especially Tessa because there was no way she’d let Steve drag Peter into the shower kicking and screaming. 

Steve had the shower already running at the hottest temperature he could make it without burning Peter and the stopper was up so no water would accumulate in the bathtub. The soap was all ready as well. All he needed was Peter. 

He knocked on his door and waited for Peter to open it up. He was standing there with Nonna’s blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked just as tired as Tony did. When he saw it was Steve, he looked a little surprised. “Pops, oh-- uh...I ate...just a little while ago.” 

“No. I’m not here to feed you.” _Lunch will be after this definitely though._

“Then what’s the matter?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to go about this. How was he supposed to tell his teenage son that he stunk and needed to shower? 

“Just tell him, man,” Nice Guy said. “Tell him he’s disgusting and there’s a bath with his name on it.” 

Stevve growled and glanced over his shoulder. “It’s not a bath.” 

Peter let out a squeak and that dragged Steve’s attention back to him. “Bath?”

“No! I wasn’t-- there’s no bath. But, you do need to take a shower.” Steve held his breath, waiting for a response. 

Peter took a step back, shaking his head. “No. I’m okay. I’m fine.” 

Steve stuck his foot in the doorway so Peter wouldn’t be able to shut the door on him. “Peter, can you even remember the last time you took a shower? It was before we--.” He stopped when he saw Peter’s eyes widen. “Peter, your hair is greasy and you-- you smell, bud…” 

Peter looked down at his feet, tugging the blanket around himself tighter. “I know…” he said in a small voice. “B-But...I can’t.” 

“I’ll be right there. If you want, I can help you so that no water even gets in your eyes.” Steve was trying his best to coax Peter out of the bedroom. He didn’t want to have to carry him in there, but he would. 

“I don’t want to take a shower,” Peter said instead. 

“That’s not an option anymore, bud.” 

“I don’t want to take a shower!” He yelled the words this time as if that would change Steve’s mind. 

“Peter, you  _ need  _ to. Especially if you’re going back to school--.” 

_ “School?”  _ Peter repeated, his voice cracking. 

“Not-- shit, Pete--.” 

“I don’t want to go to school either! Just leave!” Peter tried shutting the door, so Steve refused to let it shut. 

“Oh, this is going swell,” Nice Guy commented. 

Steve groaned as Peter tried shoving Steve out the door and close it behind him. “Peter, stop it. Please.” 

“I don’t want to go school!” 

“Fine!” Steve said, willing to say whatever he had to in order to calm him down. “Just come take your shower.” 

“I can’t do it.” Peter was shaking his head but stopped shoving Steve. 

“You can,” Steve insisted. “I know you can, buddy.” 

“The water,” he said, looking at him with his big brown eyes full of fear. 

“You’re going to be okay. I’ll be right there and if it gets too much, I’ll shut it off or pull you right out. We can go as slow as you want.” 

"Papa, I can't-- I'm not...I'm not strong enough." 

Steve hated this. He hated having to convince his son to shower. He hated that the man laughing behind him hurt him enough that he was too scared to even see water. How fucked up was that? 

He cupped Peter's cheeks, pulling him closer and whispered, "You're strong enough. I know you are, sweetie. You can do it." 

"What if I can't?" 

Steve wasn't letting him get out of the bathroom until he was bathed, but he wasn't going to necessarily tell Peter that. "Then I bring you back to your room and we'll try again when you're ready." 

Peter took a deep breath and nodded his head shakily. "O-okay…" 

Steve went to wrap an arm around his shoulders but remembered the mess of his back he made and stopped. He settled on just holding one of his hands and led him toward the bathroom. 

"Oh, how cute is this? You think this is going to go well?”

Steve pointedly ignored him as he continued walking down the hallway. 

“Imagine being so pathetic that you can’t even take a shower without your daddy there? At least you’re not that bad.” Nice Guy laughed and Steve wished he was real so he could just knock him out again. “You just make sure doors are locked a dozen times before your family goes to bed. Oh! You also ignore said family and spend more time with a dog and a hallucination of me-- great choice by the way! Maybe you are that bad...Probably worse.” 

They reached the bathroom door and Steve turned to him and said in a low voice, “You’re not coming in with us.” 

“Who’s not coming in?” Peter asked, his own fear taking a backseat for his worry for Steve.

“No one. Just come on.” Steve pulled Peter in and snapped the door shut before Nice Guy could follow them in. He didn't care if Peter and Tony thought he was crazy anymore. They'd be right.

Peter stumbled inside, refusing to look anywhere near the shower. He was rigid as he stood against the wall. “I can’t…” 

“You can. I’ll sit on the toilet and wait for you to finish and it’ll be fine.” Steve sat down on the lid of the bowl while he tried to glance around the room. He didn’t see Nice Guy, which was a good sign. Once he saw Peter shaking as he started to undress, Steve closed his eyes and waited. 

He heard Peter pulling the curtain back and there was a moment of silence. He waited to hear Peter get into the tub, but he didn’t. Instead, his feet went running across the floor towards the door. Steve’s eyes snapped open and caught Peter just as he was about to open the door. His heart pounded. Opening the door would let Nice Guy in here. 

Steve tugged Peter close to his chest, who had only stripped down to his boxers before losing his nerve and making a run for it.  He was openly crying as he clawed at Steve’s arms. “Let me go!”

Steve stood up, bringing Peter with him. He tried his best to keep the pressure off of his back, but he couldn’t avoid it. He hoped it didn’t hurt. He carried him over to the shower and stepped inside without any care about his own clothes still being on. 

Peter tried to go boneless so it would be harder, but Steve was a super soldier so he could handle all of his weight. He lowered them both to the ground of the tub and whispered close to his ear, keeping his voice soft. “You’re okay. Papa has you.” 

“No!” Peter screeched, the voice piercing Steve’s ears. “No!” 

“I’m going to bring you under the spray of the water. It’s going to be okay. I’m holding you.” Steve loosened his hold so it wasn’t as restraining. Peter turned around in his arms and stuck his face in his neck. 

“No, no, no,” he muttered over and over in his neck but made no move to run away. 

Steve hushed him gently as he continued walking until they were both under the stream of the shower. Peter screamed as he did as if the water was burning him alive. The sound made Steve’s heart pound dangerously in his chest. 

Peter continued to sob as Steve threaded his hand through his hair to get it wet. “You’re okay. Papa’s taking care of you.” 

“No! I’m drowning! I can’t breathe!” 

Steve slid so they were both out of the water. “You’re not drowning. Take a deep breath. You’re alright.” 

Peter’s nails stuck into his skin painfully, but Steve welcomed it. He deserved it. 

“Papa, take me out!” He let out a guttural scream when Steve refused to move. 

He reached over to pour some shampoo in his palm and then rubbed it through Peter’s hair. He spent almost two full minutes scrubbing his hair, hoping the massage would calm him down. Peter didn’t let out any more screaming bursts, but his sobbing didn’t falter. 

“I’m going to bring you back to the water now, bud,” Steve whispered. 

“Papa! No!” He looked up at him with wide eyes. They were red and full of tears even as they streamed down his cheeks. “Please!”

“I have to rinse out the soap now. Hide your face again, sweetie.” 

Peter buried his head into his neck again and Steve carried him back underneath the spray. Steve was careful as he rinsed it out so that it didn’t fall into his eyes. That was all they needed. “You’re doing so well, bud.” 

Peter didn’t hear his compliment. “P-please. No more.  _ Please.”  _

“We’re almost done,” Steve promised. He wasn’t going to torture him anymore today by making him sit through conditioner as well. Soap was all that mattered. He would have liked to have Peter wash his body as well, but that wasn’t going to happen and Steve didn’t trust either of them. He didn’t want to hurt Peter or touch his back more than necessary. He’d give Peter a soapy face cloth later to wash himself down. 

They just needed to get through this first. 

Steve hummed under his breath as he rinsed the last of the shampoo out of his hair. Peter just continued his crying for his Papa. Even though he was right there holding him. 

“It’s all out now.” He pressed a kiss to Peter’s clean hair. “I’m going to shut off the water and we’re going to get out.” 

Steve did exactly that and soon, Steve and Peter were standing in the tub, soaking wet with no more water running. Peter was still rigid in his arms. “A-all done?”

“All done,” Steve confirmed. “I’m going to step out and there’s a towel waiting for you.” He didn’t bring one in for him because he didn’t expect to take the dip as well, but he could live in his drenched clothes until Peter was comfortable again. 

He wasn’t sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe anymore, at least. Only soft cries and hiccups. He didn’t say a word. 

Steve lifted him up and settled him on his hip as he lifted his leg over the tub to get out. He continued his hushing as if that was calming Peter down. Maybe it was. Steve really didn’t know. 

He sat him down on the closed toilet seat and wrapped the waiting towel around him. It was the fluffiest one they had and Peter cuddled into it. His curls clung around his head, almost long enough to cover his eyes as the water dripped down. 

Finally, Peter said something that wasn’t begging for Steve to stop. “I n-need my bandages changed.” 

Steve froze. He hadn’t changed them once since he came home. Tony was always the one that did it. Steve hadn’t seen the damage he’d done on Peter’s back since they were still in that room. “Alright…clean ones in your room?”

Peter wouldn’t look at him. “Uh huh.” 

“Do you need me to carry you to your room?” Steve asked quietly. 

That had Peter stumbling to his feet immediately. “No. I can walk.” 

“Okay, bud.” He waited for Peter to move and followed his lead, walking out of the bathroom. Steve hated hearing Nice Guy cackling the second they walked out. He put himself between Nice Guy and Peter. “Man, I heard him from out here! Crying like a little bitch. Is that all you ever do? Make your son cry?”

Steve followed Peter until they were back in his room. Again, Steve made sure to shut the door before he could follow them in. “You get changed and I’m going to grab your bandages from your bathroom. Call me when you’re ready.” 

Peter nodded, staring down at his feet and Steve walked over to Peter’s en suite bathroom. Once he was in there, he saw right on the counter were Peter’s bandages and the cream to cover the wounds in. Of course Tony had it ready. He knew how to take care of their son, unlike Steve. Steve just made him cry. 

He waited a few minutes and was debating on calling out to Peter but just as he opened his mouth, Peter called out first, “Pops, I’m ready.” 

He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Peter sitting on his bed with sweats on. His curly hair was still wet, but he didn’t seem to care. Steve sat on the bed next to him and took a deep breath before asking, “Can you turn around please?” 

Peter hesitated only a moment before turning around for Steve to see his bandaged back. They were soaked, but at least they weren’t stained red. He peeled them off, holding his breath the entire time. Once they were all off, Steve looked up at his back and his breath exhaled from his lungs. The wounds were almost healed but still red and puffy. Even for a person with accelerated healing, Steve wasn’t sure if the scarring would ever heal. 

Steve’s marks would be there forever. 

“I’m going to put the cream on it now,” he warned as he squeezed some out on his fingertips. He waited for Peter to nod his head before he began to smooth it against the inflamed skin of Peter’s back. Peter let out a few hisses of discomfort but stayed still enough to let Steve finish. 

It was nothing compared to the shower. 

Steve praised him anyway, “That’s it. Almost done. You’re doing good.” He covered them with bandages as soon as he could so he didn’t have to keep staring at the reminder of what he did. “I’m sorry, Pete…” 

“For what?” He asked in a quiet voice. He sounded tired, but Steve wasn’t surprised. He’d been exhausted all the time lately and especially after all that, he must be drained. 

“I did this and then I just made you scream for 20 minutes in the shower.” 

“It’s not your fault. None of that. I needed a shower. You were right.” He picked up the t-shirt he had waiting and pulled it over his head. “Thanks for changing the bandages. I can’t reach them.” 

“Even if you could, you shouldn’t have to. I’m your father.” 

Peter turned back around and looked at him guiltily. “Sorry about making you get soaked.” 

“Just a little water, it’s okay.” 

Peter winced at the words and Steve realized how bad it sounded the moment the words left his lips. Peter was traumatized, with good reason to be; he couldn’t even stand the sight of water and Steve was said it was nothing. 

“I didn’t mean--.”

“You should probably go and get changed." 

“Peter--.” 

“I’m gonna take a nap,” he said. “And I don’t want to eat lunch, so don’t worry about that.” 

Steve froze, his mind racing a mile a minute. “You need to eat. You haven’t eaten in over three hours. Maybe four. And the oatmeal--.” 

“Pops, I’m not hungry,” he said, laying down with his back to Steve. 

“I can bring up just a little snack--.”

“I’m fine.” 

Steve sighed heavily and stood up. There was an awkward tension filling the air and now as he stood there, all he could feel was the guilt gnawing at his heart and his soaked clothes clinging to his body uncomfortably. “Alright. I’ll see you later, bud.” 

Peter didn’t reply as Steve walked out of the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Nice Guy was right there waiting. He was silent too as he smirked at him. Steve ignored him as he hurried back to his room to get changed. 

“FRIDAY, tell Tony we’re done. He should come upstairs and check on Peter.” He paused with his hand on his doorknob. “And tell him he won. Peter’s not going to school.” 

_ “Yes sir.”  _

Steve went into his room and pulled his clothes off, struggling both because his clothes were sticking to him and because his hands were shaking too much to do anything. Once he was finally dressed, he went into his top drawer and searched for a new pack of cigarettes since his other one was ruined in the pocket of his pants he wore in the shower. 

But as he tried to pull one of them out of the pack just to see if his hands would cooperate enough to hold one, it fell to the floor. He cursed under his breath and tried again. It fell to his feet, joining the other. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, throwing the pack against the wall. 

“Why don’t you sit down? You’re shaking pretty bad there, champ.” 

Steve shouldn’t have listened to him because Nice Guy was never nice. But Steve sat down anyway when his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore. He dropped his head in his hands and shut them. 

The moment he did, all he could see was Peter’s back. It was bleeding and the skin was shredded. Peter’s screams filled his ears. 

Steve snapped his eyes open and jumped back, away from Nice Guy, until his back was pressed hard against the headboard. 

He was laughing hysterically. 

“You did that on purpose,” Steve breathed. 

“Oh, come on, man! Both of us knew that was going to happen. That’s all you’re going to see when you close your eyes for a long time.” 

Steve couldn’t argue with that. Nice Guy was right. He could still hearing the screaming. 

“And you know what else we both know?”

Steve just stared at him with wide eyes. 

“You deserve it.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is officially the last one. It will be back to the longer length though as compared to the other recovery chapters. That should be up in a few days.


	15. day eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter talks about Peter's eating disorder and also past child abuse (Steve). Please read with care.

Steve stayed in his room the rest of the day. He spent hours arguing with Nice Guy. But as frustrated and angry as Steve became, Nice Guy remained calm. 

It was infuriating. 

He stayed down there long past lunch time, long past dinner time, and long past bedtime. Tony called for him multiple times through FRIDAY and through his phone, but Steve ignored him every time. Eventually, Tony stopped calling for him. 

It wasn't until the early hours of the next morning when he finally left the studio. His eyes were burning and he could barely keep them open, but he had to make sure his family was safe. He had let too much time pass. 

The only reason he wasn’t worried about Peter eating was because Tony was with him and Tony wouldn’t let him starve. 

But he was still worried. 

So he snuck back upstairs and made his way to Peter's room. Nice Guy followed the entire way, chewing his ear off about how horrible of a father and husband he was. 

But Nice Guy was a hallucination; no matter how real he seemed, Steve knew that. 

So really, it was just him yelling at himself for being such a failure the entire time. Nothing new. 

He paused outside of Peter's room and even though it was just barely 4 in the morning, Steve still checked in with FRIDAY. "Are they asleep?"

_ "They are both asleep."  _

Steve let out a steadying breath and opened the door. The light from the hallway casted a sliver of light onto Peter's bed. He couldn't see either of his boys from here, so he took a step closer. 

He shut the door quietly so that it wouldn't disturb either of them and walked to the bed with the lightest footsteps.  His eyes easily adjusted to the dark and he could see Tony lying in bed with his back facing the door. He was curled around Peter and held him protectively. Tessa was even tucked in bed with them as well. 

Steve wanted nothing more than to squeeze into bed with them. He wanted to be able to hold Peter like that again and feel like he was protecting his son. But now he only felt like he was hurting him.

Instead, he stood there and just watched them. He watched the way their breathing had synced up, their chest rising and falling to the same beat. A beat that Steve's ears couldn't hear. 

He wasn't sure how long he stood there. He could have watched them sleep for hours, just to see them safe and peaceful. But Peter let out a low whine in his sleep and Tony shifted to pull him closer and the trance Steve was stuck in disappeared. 

He felt like he was intruding on something private. Was his presence what was making Peter whine? 

At one point, Peter had told him that his spidey sense didn't work on Steve sneaking up on him because his body thought he was safe. 

That was probably gone now. 

There was no way Steve was  _ safety.  _

Before either of them could wake up and see him standing there, watching them sleep like a creep, he turned around and tiptoed out of the room. He glanced over his shoulder one last time before shutting the door behind him. 

"I liked watching you two sleep too." Nice Guy fell into step with him as they walked through the hallway, performing Steve's nightly security check. 

"Peter slept every night, of course, because Papa told him to. But you sleeping was a rarer occasion. But when you did, it got me excited. I could reach over, wrap a hand around your son's throat until his heart stopped and you wouldn't be able to stop me." 

"I would have," Steve snapped. "I would have saved him if you ever tried." 

"Would you have had the chance?  _ Will  _ you have the chance to when you fall asleep next and I use that time to come back and finish the job?" 

Steve stopped walking and turned to face Nice Guy. He got up in his face and growled. "You're not coming back. And I'm not falling asleep." 

Nice Guy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Oh, come off it. Both of us know you haven't slept in days. Besides for your micro naps. You've been falling asleep with your eyes open. Sometimes you fall asleep in the middle of  _ doing something.  _ It's actually concerning. Probably dangerous. Not that anyone cares enough to notice." 

Steve faltered. He couldn't argue with him when he was right. Steve was struggling and was one restless night away from passing out for good. 

"See? I'm right. I know I am. We both do. Tony don't care that you're dying. I've still got your heart in my hand, ever since you were in my room. And I keep squeezing it, even now that you're free and I'm slowly draining the life out of you." 

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" 

"Because you don't want me to, Steve. You welcome the pain I bring because it's a distraction from the mess around you. It makes you feel less alone. And of course, you know you deserve it." 

Steve let out a growl of frustration before sending his fist to Nice Guy’s face-- right through it and into the wall. Nice Guy didn’t even flinch. Steve huffed and turned around, continuing his routine check. Nice Guy followed, cackling the entire way. 

Once he was finally finished, he sat down on the couch in the living room and stared at the elevator. If anyone was going to try and come in, Steve was going to make sure they didn't get near Peter or Tony.

But when he sat down, he didn't feel alert enough to be look out, let alone fight anyway that came in. 

His eyes were burning and his entire body  _ ached  _ for sleep. Maybe if he just closed his eyes for a moment he would be able to get that strength back to fight for his family. And after his naps, Nice Guy usually gave him a break.

So he let his eyes shut, despite knowing it wasn't safe. He just so desperately needed the sleep.

When he closed his eyes, he didn’t see Peter screaming out in pain. 

Not yet.

* * *

_ "Stop! Stop! It  _ hurts!"  _ Peter was screaming as he laid on the ground. His back was so bloody and torn apart, Steve couldn't even see a piece of skin untouched.  _

_ Steve wanted to reach out and grab him. He wanted to pull him into a hug and promise him everything was going to be okay.  _

_ This wasn't real. This had to be just another hallucination.  _

_ But then he saw his hand in front of him and he was holding that damn whip. He tried to drop it, but he couldn't. His hand refused to let it go.  _

_ Peter glanced over his shoulder and his entire face was bruised and bloody. God, was there a piece of him that wasn’t? “Papa, please stop hurting me!”  _

_ Instead of comforting Peter like he should have, he laughed. He laughed just like Nice Guy did. He heard himself speaking to Peter over his cries. “Hurting you? I thought we were having fun!”  _

No. This wasn’t him. He didn’t have fun hurting his son. He wanted to stop. Why couldn’t he just  _ stop?  _

_ Peter was sobbing so hard he could barely speak. “P-Papa! S-Stop! This--this isn’t f-fun!” _

_ “You’re not? Well, I am.” He whipped Peter again even though there was no skin left to break. Peter let out a scream that died only a second in. His throat was too raw to let it continue.  _

_ “I love this. I love to hear you cry. My favorite sound in the entire world.”  _

_ Peter gave up on doing anything but sobbing. Steve wanted to stop so badly. God, he had to watch himself whip Peter again and hear his sobbing-- he had to hear himself enjoy it. He hated that he could feel there was a smile on his face.  _

_ “This is what you deserve, boy!”  _ It’s not, Peter. I promise. 

_ Steve continued to bring the whip down on his back again and again. Peter was choking on his sobs and Steve felt like sobbing himself. He wanted to wake up-- why couldn’t he wake up?  _ Fuck. Just wake up!

_ There was one last snap of the whip against Peter’s back and then Peter stopped. He stopped shaking. He stopped crying. He stopped begging. He stopped breathing.  _

_ Peter was gone-- he was dead.  _

_ And Steve laughed.  _

Then, he was screaming. 

He shot up on the couch and screamed. 

He screamed until Tony was there, holding him by the shoulders and trying to calm him down. “Babe, it’s okay. It’s okay.” 

“I killed him! He’s dead!” 

“Who?” Tony asked, trying to put himself in Steve’s line of sight.

Steve would have fallen to his knees if Tony wasn’t holding him up. “H-He was begging and c-crying! But I didn’t stop!” 

“You need to calm down. It’s going to be okay. It was just a bad dream. That’s it.” 

Steve’s breathing hitched a few times as he tried to calm down. It was easier said than done. 

“I’m okay and Peter is okay. We’re both okay.” 

“Peter’s okay?” Steve demanded to know. 

“Yes,” Tony said again. “He’s upstairs. He heard you screaming-- we both did. But I told him to stay in bed while I checked up on you.” 

Steve just nodded his head, even though he closed his eyes and could still see everything so clearly in his mind. 

"What was the dream about?" 

_ The dream.  _ Talking about it only brought it back to his mind. "It was nothing." 

_ "Nothing?"  _ Tony repeated incredulously. "The way you screamed...Steve, I've  _ never  _ heard you like that. And then I come down here and you're saying he's dead and you killed him--." 

"Tony." 

"It's not nothing." 

"It is! Just go back to Peter." Steve turned, trying to get Tony off his back. "Go keep him safe."  _ Safe from me.  _

"Alright. I'm done with this. You're not okay. You're not fine. You need to talk about this!" 

"Talk about what? There's nothing to talk about." 

Tony grabbed his hand and refused to back down like he did every other time since Steve had been back. "I know it's scary and I know you don't want to talk about it, but you  _ need  _ to. I refuse to let you keep this to yourself." 

Steve stayed silent as Tony continued, his eyes full of tears. 

"I can't bear to see my boys in pain anymore. You don't leave your studio and it's only to feed Peter more and more food. And when I do see you, you're not  _ you.  _ You're different. And I get it, I've been gone and I've been kidnapped and I've been tortured too. But--." 

"It is  _ not  _ the same, Tony! You know it isn't." 

Tony didn't acknowledge that. "But I came back and I got help. I spoke to someone." 

"I don't need therapy!" 

"You do!" Tony's voice matched Steve's. "You need to let all of this out! And so does Peter! But Peter won't do it without you doing it! So if you're not going to do it for yourself, then do it for our son!" 

"You're relying on me? To help our son?" Steve laughed a little hysterically. "Wrong choice there. I am probably the  _ worst  _ person on the entire earth to do that." 

"Don't say that, Steve." 

"Why not?" Steve stood up, pushing Tony's hands away. He wouldn't want to comfort him if he  _ knew.  _

"Because you're his father. He  _ loves  _ the hell out of you." 

"His father? Some father I am! He was kidnapped and I did _nothing_ to protect him! Did you know he was stabbed because I told him to run away?" 

Tony went silent and his eyes widened slightly. 

"And did you know he was dunked under ice water repeatedly because they wanted information from me?" 

Tony's face twisted in pain. 

"And wait-- it gets better! I let them drag him away from me to a room where I guess they used him to put their cigarettes out. And you'd think that maybe that would give me the idea not to keep running out to smoke my lungs out, but I still do. And I broke his Uncle Ben's necklace too. The one he gave me to protect me." 

"Steve, stop, you can't--." 

"No! You wanted me to talk about it right?" He asked, throwing his arms up in the air. "Well, I'm talking about it!" 

"You don't have to do it like this," Tony said in a quiet voice, eyeing him warily. 

"Why? Does it scare you to know how much danger I put your son in? Because it gets better." Steve took a deep breath and when he spoke again, he couldn't get his voice to yell like he had been. It was low, as if it would crack if he raised it any higher. "I whipped him." 

Then the tears started to fall from Tony's eyes. 

"I whipped our son. I whipped Peter. The scars on his back? They're from me. He cried because of me." 

“What…” 

Steve laughed again at his disbelief even though there was nothing funny about this. But somewhere in his fucked up mind, he thought it was humorous enough to laugh. “I whipped him and he cried and then  _ they _ whipped him and I held him while they did.” 

The tears were pouring down Steve’s face as he stared down at Tony, just waiting for him to snap at him. 

“I didn’t tell you that because I was afraid that you’d hate me. I think Peter already does. I was afraid you’d hate me and tell me to leave. And--and to stay away from your son. Which I understand if you want, but...I just-- I’m nothing without the two of you. I came out of the ice to nothing and there was nothing to live for except for my next mission. 

Until you. I met you and I remembered what it was like to smile again and to enjoy dancing in the rain. And with you...with you, came Peter...my bright boy with his endless sunshine and his laughter. Now that I have that...I can’t do this without you both. There is no reason for this earth to spin without you two. And I know you both deserve better and I know I should stay far away. But...I just can’t. I can’t live without you both. So, I'm begging you to just...let me stay in the studio. I won't bother either of you. Or I can stay with Bucky and Nat-- just let me visit. I'll--." 

"Steve, stop it. Stop. Just stop." Tony shook his head a few times as if he was trying to comprehend what Steve was telling him. Or trying to convince himself not to kill Steve for hurting Peter. 

"I'm sorry," Steve whispered.

"You're not going anywhere," he said immediately. "You're my husband. You're Peter's father. We're not going to kick you out because you're having a rough time." 

"I hurt him. I whipped Peter." 

Tony's jaw clenched. "Why?" 

Steve blinked. "What do you mean?" 

"Why did you hurt him?"

"Because...because it was either me or them." Steve brought a shaky hand to his mouth. "I could have done it 10 times or they could have done it 20-- and I thought I could go e-easier on him. I just, I-I couldn't f-finish and then they did it anyway." 

Steve fell to his knees as his sobs overtook him. Tony kneeled next to him without hesitation and grabbed his hand. "Steve…" 

"I'm sorry, Tony. God, I'm so fucking  _ sorry."  _ Steve's shoulders shook. "I--I know you have no right to trust me and--." 

"You were protecting him. I'm sorry you have to live with that. I know it's eating you up inside, but that doesn't change how I see you. You were only trying to protect him from something worse." 

"I close my eyes and it's all I see!" Steve let Tony wrap his arms around him. "I hurt him! And then I dragged him into that shower last night while he screamed! I'm just like them! Just like him!" 

"You're not just like him. You're  _ nothing  _ like him."

"I am. I know I am. He reminds me every day! I see him. He's always there. He's talking to me and telling me how  _ pathetic  _ I am." 

"Seeing him?" 

Steve nodded his head but didn't say a word.

"Is he...here now?" 

Steve glanced around the room but didn't see him. "Not now...and I know I'm crazy. He's not real. But he looks so real. It feels so  _ real.  _ And I know that makes me pathetic. I know--." 

"Stop saying that. You're not pathetic. Don't  _ say  _ that. Fuck. You were kidnapped and tortured and forced to hurt your own son." Tony moved his hands to Steve's cheeks to move his head up and look him in the eyes. "You're anything but pathetic. You're so  _ strong."  _

Tony leaned in to kiss Steve's lips but Steve turned his head away. He kissed that man's boot. Tony didn't deserve Steve's lips on his. 

Lowering his voice, Tony said, "Baby, whatever is going on in that head of yours...just let it go for a second. Just a second so I can remind you how strong you are. How beautiful you are. How lucky I am to have you as a husband and a father to our son." 

"I can't…" Steve admitted. Another reason why he was absolutely pathetic. 

"You need to get it all out. Everything in there. And I know you might not want to share it with me, so that's why you have to talk to someone. Someone that can help you." 

"I don't need--." 

"You do," Tony said immediately. "And that's okay. We can get you and Peter help. He needs it, Steve. He just lays in bed and he's scared of going near water and he asks for food like I'm going to hurt him just for asking and he keeps asking me to look for this woman that had them to make sure she's okay." 

That last part had Steve's eyes widening. "What?" 

"He's so confused, love. And I don't know how to talk to him about things I have no idea about. He won't even tell me." 

Steve still struggled to wrap his head around the fact that Peter cared if that woman was okay. Steve hoped they both rotted in hell after a horrible life. 

"He said she was his friend in there--." 

Steve's nose flared at that accusation. "She was not his goddamn friend! She made a muzzle that was on his face that could  _ kill  _ him with one shock! She kept him there too! She could have helped us get out if she was his fucking friend!" 

"Hey, hey, calm down...I know she wasn't. I do. But Peter doesn't." 

Stockholm syndrome. Steve had heard of the term before, but he never thought it could actually be  _ real.  _ He was a soldier and he'd rescued men from war prisons. He'd been kidnapped himself before. Never once did he or any other soldier consider their captors  _ friendly.  _

But Peter was different. Peter was a child. He always saw the good no matter what. And this time was no different. 

"He needs you, Steve. And now...I understand a little better about why you've been hiding from him, but he doesn't blame you. He misses you. He wants you back." 

Steve shook his head. That was wrong. So wrong. 

But Tony persisted. "He does. If you went up there to see him right now, he'd love it." 

"What if he hates me?" 

"He doesn't. That boy doesn't possess a single bone in his body allowing him to hate someone. And even if he did, he could never hate you. Not in a million years."

"But…"

"But nothing. Come with me. Come see your son." 

He should have said no. He should have ran to his studio. That's what Nice Guy would have told him to do and Steve would have listened. But Nice Guy wasn't here. Tony was. 

So he took his hand and nodded his head. "Yeah. Okay."   
  
Tony smiled at him as he stood up slowly, bringing Steve up with him. They walked in silence all the way to Peter's room. Steve kept glancing around, waiting for Nice Guy to come back and ruin this. But he left him alone for once. 

Tony opened Peter's door slowly and said, "Hey, Pete, I brought a friend that wants to lay down with us." 

Peter was sitting up in bed already and when he saw Steve walk through the door, his eyes widened. "Really?" 

Tony nudged Steve forward and gave him a look like it was his turn now. Steve took a deep breath and then looked back over to Peter. "Yeah, really." He took a few steps closer to his bed but stopped just short of it. "Unless you don't want me here. I can just go--." 

"No!" Peter said just as quickly, moving over in his bed. "Please. I-- if you want to, of course." 

Steve shrugged his shoulders. "I do, I just don't want to upset y--." 

"Oh, for Christ's sake, just get in the bed, Steve." 

Steve hurried to follow the command even though he knew it was from his husband. Peter gave him his space as he sat there and wrapped his arms around himself, struggling to comfort himself. 

He looked like a kicked puppy and Steve hated seeing Peter anything less than happy, so he reached over and pulled Peter into a hug. 

Immediately, Peter returned it, squeezing onto Steve so fiercely. Like someone was going to drag him away again. Steve wouldn't let that happen. Not again. 

Steve pulled away and looked down at him. He swallowed past the lump growing in his throat. He couldn't break now. 

"We have to talk, Peter," Steve said quietly and Peter nodded his head. "But, for right now, I just want to hold you." 

Peter nodded his head and buried his face in Steve's shoulder. For once, Steve let himself enjoy it without thinking of everything else. 

* * *

Steve didn't fall back to sleep after, but Peter did. Tony left them alone to go take care of himself and maybe take a shower. 

Peter woke up close to noon with a whimper. Steve hushed him gently, threading his fingers through his hair. "You're alright, sweetie." 

"Papa, you're here?" 

"Yeah, I'm here." 

"Thought I was just having a good dream for once." 

Steve was quiet for a moment as he decided how to say this without causing him to clamp up. "Have you been getting nightmares often since you've been back?" 

"Yeah…" 

Steve didn't even know because he was barely around. "I'm sorry for avoiding you, Pete…" 

“No, it’s okay,” Peter said. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Do what? Apologize?” He hugged onto Peter just a bit more. “I like to think that I raised you right. Well...for the year you’ve been mine. And that means I have to set a good example which includes apologizing for when I do something wrong.” 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Pops.” 

“I hurt you, didn’t I?”

Peter hesitated. “No--.” 

“Yes. I did. We came home and I hid from you. When you needed me most, I wasn’t here.” Steve pulled away so that he could see Peter’s face. He needed to see his face. “I shouldn’t have left you.” 

“I’ve been okay, really. Getting better. Today was just a bad day and--.” 

“You know I haven’t slept a night since we’ve been home,” Steve said, cutting Peter off. It worked. He went quiet, staring up at him silently. Steve continued on, “If I even shut my eyes, all I see is you...you hurt and crying. I’m sure you heard me down there this morning.” 

Peter was still staring up at him as Steve stared at Peter’s wall. His thumb was rubbing small circles on his arm soothingly. 

“I’ve been seeing him. That man.” 

“Felix?”

Steve cringed. He hated associating a name with him. “Yes. I didn’t want him near you. Even though I know he’s not real. I also haven’t been eating. Few bites here or there when Dad’s watching, but I’m giving you my food all the time.” 

Peter’s voice was almost too quiet to hear, “I can’t stop eating.” It was Steve’s turn to be quiet and listen. “Even when I ate just a little bit ago. And you always give me so much food. I eat so much I feel like I’m going to explode. I know I'm full, but I go for more. I know the food isn’t going anywhere, but I eat it like it’s the last meal I’m getting. The other night after you kept refilling my plate, I felt so nauseous. But after we were done and Dad was doing something, I snuck into the pantry. I keep sneaking in the pantry to eat whenever I can. But that night I ate so much I was getting sick for almost a half hour.” 

Steve turned his head from the wall to look down at Peter with teary eyes. “Oh, baby…”

“And afterwards...I just-- I was s-so scared because I was always eating and I was always full, but...but I wanted more. I was worried about all the food I lost when I got sick and I thought-- I remembered what it was like to be starving and I, I just couldn’t go through it again.” 

“You will always have enough to eat. I promise you.” 

“I-I know. I just...I do. I do. I just...my brain doesn’t listen all the time. It just gets so scared and makes me scared and I don’t know how to make it go away.” 

Steve looked down and all of his attention was on Peter. He cupped his cheeks in his hands and brought his face close to his. “That’s why you have Pops and Dad. If there is ever a time when you feel overwhelmed and you’re scared, come to us. Tell us. And we will remind you that it’s okay.” 

“Will it work?”

Steve hesitated. “Eventually. Yes. It will work.” 

A sudden sob came from Peter’s throat as a tear dripped down his cheek. “I want it to stop now.” 

“It will take some time, bear. But it will. And until then, Dad and I are right here. We can stop you from going into that pantry or if you really need it, we’ll hold your hand through it. So at least, you feel a little less scared.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, trying to wipe away his tears, but Steve beat him to it. 

“No apologies for that. None at all.” 

Peter chewed on his lip as he stared down at his lap. Steve could tell by the look in his son’s eyes that he was trying to figure out how to say  _ something  _ so he waited patiently until he was ready. “You still see Felix?”

“Yes, I see him.” 

“I see his sister sometimes. Missy.” Peter seemed to relax when he mentioned her name. “Not like you though. I only see her in my dreams sometimes. She’s taking care of us. Just like she did in there. It’s nice to remember her.” 

“Peter,” Steve said slowly, “I know it’s hard to understand, but she was not a good person. She wasn’t your friend.” 

Peter’s head snapped up and his voice was hard. “She protected me. She cared about me.” 

“She needed you alive. There’s a difference. I don’t want you thinking what she did was ever okay. Because even if she did bring you a towel or give you food, she still held you captive in that room too. She kept you in danger and I will never forgive her for that.” 

Peter went quiet, staring back down at his lap with a light blush. 

“But I understand that getting your brain to believe that might be hard. And I don’t want you to keep any of that in. Obviously, that might not be the best to talk to me about because I hold no sympathy for that woman and hearing you talk about her like she’s an old friend of ours would honestly just upset me. But that’s why I think it’s a good idea we find someone else too.” 

“Like a therapist?” Peter looked back up at him and it sounded like he hated the idea. 

“Yes and before you argue with me...there’s nothing wrong with going to therapy. Especially after what we endured. It’ll help us heal.” 

“I don’t think I can talk about what happened to someone else. I don’t want to say it all again. It’s too scary.” Peter quickly leaned against Steve’s side again. 

“It will be scary, but I know you’re brave enough to do it. I’m going to do it too. I shouldn’t have acted like everything was fine when it wasn’t. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes, Pete. We can work on the eating, and that woman, and the water...slowly, you’ll go back to feeling normal again.”

“You’re going to therapy too?”

“I sure am.” 

Peter was quiet. “There’s a lot wrong with us…” 

Steve thought back to the night when he was smoking a cigarette in front of Peter, his son whose arms were covered in cigarette burns. “Yeah. There is.” 

“Do you really think we can fix it?” 

“If we started healing correctly? Yeah. I think so.” 

Peter was resting more comfortingly against Steve's side now. “I know you said I could talk to you about anything that happened…” 

“Of course. Even if you talk it over with your therapist and still want me to listen, I will always be there to lend an ear.” 

Peter nodded his head slowly. “I know I’m not doing very well with...well, everything, but my sleeping especially. I know I shouldn’t go back to needing someone to fall asleep next to every night. I hate how I acted that night when you wouldn’t stay and then the night in the shower. I’m so embarrassed...it’s why I asked Harry to give me space.” 

Steve shouldn’t have been surprised he pushed Harry away; it wasn’t like he was upstairs long enough to notice his absence. 

“But it’s okay to be clingy sometimes. It’s okay to look to others to be held. You’re allowed to do that too.” 

Steve huffed, shaking his head. “I’m your father. You’re the one that needs the comforting.” 

“And so do you. You told me that stuff. You need comfort too.” 

“I’m not making my son comfort me when he needs it more.”

Sighing, Peter said, “That’s why you have Dad. You’re allowed to ask him to hold you one in a while. You don’t always have to be the strong one.” 

Steve froze, feeling Peter’s words hit him right in the heart. 

“When we were in there and I thought...I thought it was all over, you were there for me. You held me and you sang to me...and if those would have really been our last moments, I wouldn’t have been upset. I wasn’t scared. For the first time since we’d been taken, I wasn’t scared. I felt safe. I was happy. My papa was holding me and he was singing and for a moment, everything was going to be okay. “

“But it wasn’t,” Steve argued. “They were getting ready to kill you.” 

“I know, And yet, you were holding me and even though I knew it was the end, I knew everything was going to be okay.” 

Steve didn’t understand Peter and how he could say. It didn’t make any sense for him to feel so safe in his arms after being whipped by him only hours before. 

“You deserve to feel that safe too. So, next time you’re feeling scared and you just want things to feel okay...ask Dad to hold you. I promise, everything will be okay.” 

“Peter…”

“Promise me.” 

Steve sighed but nodded his head. “Okay, bear. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Peter whispered. 

After a few moments of them both sitting their in shared silence, Steve cleared his throat and asked, “Hey, Pete, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, Pops, sure.” Peter nodded his head, ready to please him with any answer he wanted. 

Steve couldn’t get the question out right away, though. He took in a deep breath, held it for a few seconds and then let it out. Anything to stall this question because Steve was genuinely afraid of the answer Peter was going to give him. 

“Pops, it’s just me,” Peter said, sensing exactly what was wrong with Steve. “You don’t have to be scared.” 

“You can’t lie to me. You have to tell me the truth.” 

Peter shifted so he was able to look up at Steve. “Of course, Pops.” 

Another deep breath later, Steve asked in a quiet voice, “Peter, do you...hate me?”

Peter stilled and that was enough of an answer for Steve already. “Hate you?”

“Yeah.” 

“Why would I hate you?” His eyes were so wide and full of worry.

“Because I-- I let you down in there, Pete. I couldn’t keep you safe and I broke your uncle’s necklace and I…” He swallowed thickly and tried to continue without his voice breaking. He failed. “I whipped you, Peter.” 

“I don’t blame you for any of that, Pops. I don’t. I’m okay.” He winced. “Well, I’m not okay, but you’re not either and now...it’s easier for me to admit that.” 

“I’m sorry you tried to copy what I did. You shouldn’t try to be like me.” 

“You were strong in there, Pops. You were  _ so  _ strong. The strongest man I know.” 

“I...I don’t know about that.” All Steve could think about was how pathetic he was.

Now it was Peter’s turn to cup Steve’s cheeks and comfort him. Steve wanted to be the one to comfort Peter. Peter didn’t seem to care. “I do. You’re my Papa Bear and I love you. I could never hate you and what happened...that day...don’t beat yourself up over it too long. Please.” 

When Steve spoke again, his voice was filled with tears. “M-My father-- he used to...he used to hit my ma and he used to b-beat me.” 

Peter’s hands tightened on his face, not painfully but comfortingly. Maybe a little scared too. Steve  _ never  _ talked about his father. Let alone to Peter about how abusive he was. 

“E-even when he wasn’t...I was waiting for the next time he would. Every time he even raised a hand, I was praying to God it wasn’t to hit me.” Steve was openly crying by now and he should have been embarrassed to be acting like this in front of his son. But he had done so much in front of lately that this was the least of his worries. 

“I’m not scared of you,” Peter said firmly. “I don’t flinch when you come near me. I don’t dream of you hurting me. I don’t think about it, Pops.”   
Steve shook his head, trying to look away, but Peter refused to let him move his head from his hands. “I hurt you. I... _ hurt  _ you.” 

“It was that or letting them hurt me harder for twice as much. You were protecting me.” 

Steve couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t make him feel any better. 

“You’re not your father,” Peter said once he was able to meet Steve’s eyes. “You’re nothing like him or Felix. You’re my Pops. I felt safe with you the entire time I was in there and I still do now. I will  _ never  _ stop feeling safe when you’re near.” 

Peter gave him a smile but Steve couldn’t return it. 

“I know you’re not going to believe that right now. But you will eventually. And Dad and I are going to be right here until you  _ do  _ believe it.” 

“What if I never do?”

“You will. I promise. And you know what we say about a promise.” Peter smiled again and Steve let out a small wet laugh as he wiped his eyes. “I meant what I said, I said what I meant…” Steve didn’t finish the line. He didn’t feel like he was worthy to. But Peter poked his cheek with that smile still on his face. “C’mon, Papa, you know the rest.” 

“An elephant’s faithful one hundred percent.” 

Peter’s smile turned softer and he leaned forward so he was pressed against Steve’s side again. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes fall shut. 

“Don’t worry about anything else. I was never mad at you...and Ben’s necklace, do you still have the pendant?”

“Of course. It’s in my pocket. I’ve kept it there since.” 

“We can get a new chain for it. Don’t worry.” 

Steve pressed another few kisses to Peter’s curls. “I’m the one that’s supposed to be comforting you, bear.” 

“Sometimes you need help too. That’s okay. Dad’s been comforting me since I got home. You deserve some love too.” 

Steve squeezed him tight and didn’t let go. “I’ve got all the love I need right here. And if you’re going to be okay, then so am I.” 

“I love you, Papa. So much.” 

“I love you too, sweetie. Even when you smelled like Harry’s sweat filled hockey bag, I still loved the hell out of you.” There was amusement in his voice and Peter laughed along. “How about we go downstairs and talk to Dad about setting us up with some therapy? I think Gushers misses his Dad.” 

“I miss him too.” 

“Then it’s settled. Let’s go, baby. I think it’s time to start getting better.” 

* * *

That night, Steve and Tony were in their bed while Peter was in his own bed with Tessa. It took a few hours, but eventually, FRIDAY let them know that Peter was sound asleep. They were both lying down, staring up at the ceiling in silence. 

“It’s hard for me to fall asleep,” he admitted in a whisper. “The last night we were there, they told me they were going to kill Peter. I thought he was going to die the next day. He would have if you hadn’t come when you did.” Just like that, all the pain of that night was back. “And he wasn’t scared. He was so calm...as if he accepted it all. And he’s a child. He’s out baby. He should never be that comfortable knowing death was on the way.”

Tony was quiet and Steve was grateful for that. He didn’t want advice or reassurances. He just wanted someone to listen. He wanted  _ Tony  _ to listen. 

“All I could do was sing to him. That’s it. I couldn’t tell him it was going to be okay or that we were going to get out of there because I gave up. I was done. And they weren’t going to kill me; I told Peter we were both going because how was I supposed to tell him it was just him? I...I try to close my eyes and that’s the only thing I think about.” 

Tony turned on his side to face Steve and once he realized he wasn’t going to continue, he said, “I’m glad he had you there in that moment.” 

“I didn’t do anything. I sang a stupid song and--.” 

“You sang to him. You were there for him. If those would have been his last moment on this earth, I’m glad that’s how you made it for him.” He reached over and brushed some of Steve’s hair from his eyes. He needed a haircut and shower of his own. “I’m sorry you have to live with that memory and Peter does too, but I think when he thinks of it, it’ll be a good memory. He was being held by his Papa and it was going to be okay. No matter what happened. That’s how safe you make him feel.” 

When Tony said those words, he could hear Peter in his head and Steve wanted to say the words more than anything. Steve rolled on his side as well to face Tony and for a moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes as they laid there. 

Steve couldn’t last long without breaking their comfortable silence. “Hey, Tony…” 

“Yes, love?”

Steve didn’t need to build up any courage. He knew what he wanted and he knew Tony would say yes and once he did, it would be okay. Steve was so anxious for it all to just be okay. “Can you hold me?”

“Of course, baby,” Tony said, reaching his arms out to pull Steve into a hug. Once he did, Steve curled into a ball and made himself as small as he could. Tony wrapped around him and held him securely. 

And for the first time since he woke up in that room with chains around his wrists, Steve felt safe...everything was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of this one. Of course, the series is never ending and there will be more fics that will reference this fic down the line, but as of right now, this is the end of this storyline as a focus. But it won't be forgotten as we continued. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as we enjoyed rping it and then writing it. I love this story so much because we don't get nearly enough of Steve and Peter fics. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Until next time,

**Author's Note:**

> Please let us know what you think! We had fun with this one.


End file.
